


Book Two: The Chamber of Secrets

by Chasingstardust22



Series: Hiccup Haddock [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Abuse/Mentions of Abuse, Minor Violence, Swearing, Updates on Mondays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 103,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chasingstardust22/pseuds/Chasingstardust22
Summary: It's been an interesting year for Hiccup Haddock. In such a short amount of time, he has gone from an unloved orphan to the Hero of the Viking World. He has friends, adventure, and a promising future at the Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries. He can't wait to go back for his second year, which he hopes will be less eventful than his first.Naturally, this is not the case.An ancient evil is haunting the school, and it's up to Hiccup and his friends to find out who's behind it. And who indeed? Friend? Foe? Or perhaps, the one everyone at school suspects...Hiccup himself?





	1. The Worst Birthday

**Oh good _gods_ I missed this series. The break felt incredibly slow. I'd have started even sooner if my editor and I hadn't already agreed upon the schedule...Though if I'm completely honest, I needed the break to deal with things in my personal life (two practice presentations, a cooking project, three fledgling books and a blizzard)**

**...**

**Y'know, over the course of fixing errors in the last book, it occurred to me that I never brought up how exactly this universe works. I should probably fix that now. Here's the basics:**

_**About a thousand years ago the Vikings took control of England, and forced their beliefs and culture onto the native people. This is why everyone has Viking names, and everyone prays to Viking gods. They just don't all refer to themselves as Vikings anymore.** _

_**Eventually, the conquerors split into two groups: those who could use magic, and those who could not. Those who used magic avoided the natives, who for the most part were still Christians at heart and feared magic, and built their own, private community away from prying eyes. These Vikings stuck strongly to their roots, whilst the ones who did not have magic integrated much of the advancements made by their conquered people, and did not protest the idea of "mating" with them.** _

_**As a result of this history, this is a harsher, less refined nation than the England we all know. And uh, that'll really start to show as this series progresses, trust me on that...** _

**On to the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: I, Chasingstardust22,** **do not own Harry Potter or any of its copyrighted characters. I also do not own How To Train Your Dragon or any of _its_ copyrighted characters. I make no money off of this project, nor do I want to. All rights go to the respective owners, and please, _please_ go read/watch the original source material, because it's so much better than anything I could write.**

**With all that said and done, let's get back to work. This is Book Two: The Chamber of Secrets.**

* * *

_Chapter One: The Worst Birthday_

* * *

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. and Mrs. Dalvor had been rudely woken in the early hours of the morning by several loud roars coming from the bedroom of their eleven year old nephew.

"Third time this week!" Björn Dalvor roared across the table. "If you can't control those blasted lizards, they’ll have to go!"

Hiccup tried, yet again, to explain.

"They’re _bored_ ," he said. "They’re used to flying around outside. If I could _just_ let them out of night—"

"Do I look stupid?" Uncle Björn snarled.

It took every ounce of Hiccup's willpower to not say, 'Yes, yes you do'.

"I know what’ll happen if they’re let out," his uncle went on. "You’ll send messages to those freaky friends of yours. And what will the neighbors say when they see those beasts flying around?"

"As I keep reminding you, 'normal' people will only see them as birds or something," Hiccup said tiredly. "Honestly, if they couldn’t camouflage themselves they’d have died out a long time ago."

Uncle Björn ignored him and exchanged dark looks with his wife, SkaÐi.

Hiccup tried to say more, but his words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dalvor's son, Balder.

"Who’d want to be friends with _you_?" he sneered.

_Most of my year. Probably some of the future ones too._

Hiccup was about to respond, but Balder turned to look at his mother. "I want more bacon."

"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," Aunt SkaÐi said, turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We _must_ feed you properly while we've got the chance…I don't like the sound of that school food…"

"Nonsense, SkaÐi darling, I never went hungry when _I_ was at Smeltings," Uncle Björn said heartily. "Balder gets enough, don't you, son?"

Balder, who was so large his bottom was drooping over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned back to Hiccup.

"Pass the frying pan."

"You've forgotten the magic word," Hiccup grumbled irritably.

The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Balder gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen; Aunt SkaÐi let out a high-pitched screech and clapped her hands over her ears; and Uncle Björn jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples.

"I meant 'please'!" Hiccup said quickly, cursing his own stupidity. "I didn't mean—"

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU," his uncle thundered, spraying spit over the table, "ABOUT SAYING THE ‘M’ WORD IN OUR HOUSE?"

"It was only a—"

"HOW _DARE_ YOU THREATEN MY SON?!" Uncle Björn roared, pounding the table with his fist.

"I didn’t—"

"YOU DAMN RUNT! I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!"

"Alright, I get it!" Hiccup yelled, shooting out of his seat and slamming his hands down on the table. " _I get it_ …"

Uncle Björn sat back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros. He was watching Hiccup closely out of the corners of his small, sharp eyes.

With a grunt, Hiccup plopped back into his chair. Ever since he had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle Björn had been treating him like a bomb that might go off at any moment, because Hiccup really _wasn't_ a normal boy. As a matter of fact, he was as not normal as it was possible to be.

Hiccup Haddock was a Viking, a warrior able to use magic and train dragons, and he was fresh from his first year at the Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries. And if the Dalvors were unhappy to have him back for the holidays, it was nothing compared to how Hiccup felt.

He missed Berk so much it was like having a constant stomach ache. He missed the mountain fortress, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his lessons (though perhaps not Asketill the Harsh, the Potions Master), the post arriving by little dragons called Terrible Terrors, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the forge master, Gobber, in his workshop, and flying around on Toothless, his Night Fury. He especially missed Dragon Racing, the most popular sport in the Viking world (two baskets, four flying balls and fourteen players riding their dragons).

All of Hiccup's spellbooks, his sword, his crystal eye, cauldron and top-of-the-range Nimbus Two Thousand saddle had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs by Uncle Björn the instant Hiccup had brought them inside. What did the Dalvors care if Hiccup went back to the academy without any of his homework done? The Dalvors were what Vikings called Muggles (Not a drop of magical blood in their veins) and as far as they concerned, having that drop of magic blood in one's veins was a matter of deepest shame. Uncle Björn had even padlocked Hiccup's Terrible Terrors, Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter, inside their cage, to stop them from carrying messages to anyone in the Viking world.

Hiccup looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Björn was large and neckless, with an enormous grey moustache; Aunt SkaÐi was horse-faced and boney; Balder was blond, pink and porky. Hiccup was glad he looked nothing like them, despite the fact that he was small, scrawny and had freckles all over his face. He had emerald green eyes and scraggly auburn hair. Unlike the rest of the family, he wore clothes that look as though they were from centuries ago—a long-sleeved, light-green tunic, and a dark brown fur vest that matched his boots and trousers. And on his forehead, still visible through his hair, was a thin scar, distinctly shaped like a bolt of lightning.

It was this scar that made Hiccup so particularly unusual, even for a Viking. It was the only hint of Hiccup's very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left on the Dalvor’s doorstep eleven years before.

At the age of one, Hiccup had somehow survived a powerful attack from a greatest Viking warlord of all time, Drago Bludvist, whose name most Valkyries and Vikings still feared to speak. Hiccup's parents had died in Drago's attack, but Hiccup had escaped with his lightning scar, and somehow—nobody understood why—Drago's powers had been destroyed the instant he failed to kill Hiccup.

So Hiccup had been brought up by his dead mother's sister and her husband. He had spent ten years with the Dalvors, ten miserable years, never understanding why he kept making odd things happen without meaning to, and believing the Dalvor’s story that he had got his scar in the car crash which had killed his parents.

And then, exactly a year ago, Berk had written to Hiccup, and the whole story had come out. Hiccup had taken up his place at the Berk dragon academy, where he and his scar were famous…but now the school year was over, and he was back with the Dalvors for the summer, back to being treated like a waste of space.

The Dalvors hadn't even remembered that today happened to Hiccup's twelfth birthday. Of course, his hopes hadn't been high; they had never given him a proper present, let alone a cake—but to ignore it completely…

At that moment, Uncle Björn cleared his throat and announced, "Now, as we all know, today is a _very_ important day."

Hiccup looked up, hardly daring to believe his ears.

"This could very well be the day I make the biggest deal of my entire career," Uncle Björn went on happily.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, cursed himself for getting his hopes up, and went back to his too-dry toast. Of course Uncle Björn wasn’t talking about his birthday; he was talking about the stupid dinner party. He'd been talking of nothing else for a fortnight. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner, and Uncle Björn was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Björn’s company made drills).

"I think we should run through the schedule one more time, just to be safe," Uncle Björn went on. "We should all be in position at eight o’clock. SkaÐi darling, you will be—?"

"In the lounge," Aunt SkaÐi said promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously into our lovely home."

"Good, good. And Balder?"

"I’ll be waiting to open the door for them." Balder put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Malison?"

"They’ll _adore_ him!" Aunt SkaÐi cried in delight.

"Excellent, Balder," Uncle Björn praised, before rounding on Hiccup. "And _you_?"

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but he answered, "I’ll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I’m not there."

"Exactly," Uncle Björn said nastily. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, SkaÐi, and pour them drinks. At eight fifteen—"

"I’ll announce dinner," Aunt SkaÐi said.

"And, Balder, you’ll say—"

"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Malison?" Balder said, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.

"My perfect little gentleman!" Aunt SkaÐi sniffed.

"And _you_?" Uncle Björn hissed at Hiccup.

"I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I’m not there," Hiccup repeated tonelessly.

"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. SkaÐi, any ideas?"

"Björn tells me you’re a _wonderful_ golfer, Mr. Malison...Oh, _do_ tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Malison..."

"Perfect...Balder?"

"Uh...Oh, how about—‘We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Malison, and I wrote about _you_.’"

This proved too much for both Aunt SkaÐi and Hiccup; Aunt SkaÐi burst into tears and hugged her son, while Hiccup ducked under the table so that they wouldn’t see him laughing.

"And _you_?"

Hiccup fought to keep his face straight as he emerged from under the table. "I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I’m not there," he said for what he sincerely hoped would be the last time.

"Too right, you will," Uncle Björn said forcefully. "The Malisons don’t know anything about you, boy, and it’s going to stay that way."

He turned back to the rest of the family. "When dinner’s over, SkaÐi, you take Mrs. Malison back to the lounge for coffee, and I’ll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I’ll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten, and we’ll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow."

Hiccup couldn’t feel too excited about this. He didn’t think the Dalvors would like him any better in Majorca than they did on Privet Drive.

"Right—I’m off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Balder and me. And you," he snarled at Hiccup. "You stay out of your aunt’s way while she’s cleaning."

Hiccup nodded, and walked outside through the back door. It was brilliant, sunny day. He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath, "Happy birthday to me…happy birthday to me…"

No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending that he didn’t exist. Hiccup gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely in his life.

More than anything else at Berk, even more than Dragon Racing, Hiccup missed his best friends: Astrid Hofferson, who he had a crush on, and Ragnar Wicket, who he considered like a brother. They, however, didn't seem to be missing him at all. Neither of them had written to him all summer, despite the fact that Astrid had promised ( _promised_ ) that she was going to ask Hiccup to come and stay.

Hiccup had tried countless times to unlock the dragon’s cage in order to send one of them to Astrid and Ragnar with a letter, but nothing worked. He would need to use his magic to get the cage open, and that wasn't worth the risk. Vikings under the age of seventeen weren't allowed to use magic outside of the academy. Hiccup never told the Dalvors this; he knew it was only their fear that he might set them on fire that stopped them locking _him_ in the cupboard under the stairs with his crystal eye and saddle.

For the first couple of weeks back, Hiccup had enjoyed watching Balder tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs could carry him whenever he snapped his fingers. But the long silence from Astrid and Ragnar had made Hiccup feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Balder had lost its appeal—and now Astrid and Ragnar had forgotten his birthday.

What wouldn't he give now for a message from Berk? From any Viking or Valkyrie that could be out there? He'd almost be glad of a sight of his arch-enemy Snotlout Jorgenson; just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream…

Not that his whole year at Berk had been enjoyable. At the very end of last term, Hiccup came face-to-face with none other than Drago Bludvist himself. Drago may have been a ruin of his former self, but he was terrifying, still cunning, and still determined to regain power. Hiccup had slipped through Drago's clutches for a second time, but it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Hiccup kept waking in the dead of night, drenched in cold sweat, wondering where Drago was now, remembering those terrible scars on his face…

Hiccup suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge— _and the hedge was staring back_. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.

Hiccup shook his head, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, and at that moment a jeering voice came floating across the lawn.

"I know what day it is," Balder sang, waddling towards him.

The huge eyes blinked and vanished.

"What?" Hiccup asked distractedly, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had been.

"I know what day it is," Balder repeated, coming right up to him.

"Is that so? Wow, I didn't know you learnt the days of the week," Hiccup said. "Congratulations, buddy."

"Today's your _birthday_ ," Balder sneered. "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you got _friends_ at that freak place?"

"You know, I know someone at that ' _freak place_ ' that you'd probably like," Hiccup said slowly.

"You do? Ooh, is it that pretty girl I saw standing with you at the station when we picked you up?" Balder asked, his eyes sparking with interest.

"No, that’s Astrid, and she’d break your nose if you so much as looked at her funny," Hiccup said plainly. "Believe me, I’ve seen her do it. Anyways, I was talking about a guy who happens to hate my guts, just like you. But then, he wouldn’t like _you_ , either. He thinks people like you are animals."

At that moment, Balder grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"What was that?" he demanded, looking as though he was going to punch Hiccup in the face (A look that reminded Hiccup ever so slightly of Astrid). "And why're you staring at the hedge?"

"I'm trying to decide if I should set it on fire or not," Hiccup lied.

At these words, Balder released Hiccup, and quickly backed away from him with a look of panic on his fat face.

"You c-can't—Dad told you you're not to do m-magic—he said he'll chuck you out of the house—and you haven't got anywhere else to go—you haven't got any _friends_ to take you—"

 _"You should really stop talking, moron,"_ a voice within Hiccup seethed.

"Let me think…should I light it by clapping my hands or by snapping my fingers…hm...What say you, Balder?" Hiccup went on, acting like he was in deep thought.

"MUUUUUUMMY, help me!" Balder howled, tripping over his feet as he dashed back towards the house, "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"

Hiccup paid the price for his short moment of fun. As neither Balder nor the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt SkaÐi knew he hadn't really done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his head with the soapy frying pan. Luckily Uncle Björn had already left for town, so she merely gave him work to do, with the promise that he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished.

While Balder lolled around, watching and eating tub after tub of ice-cream, Hiccup cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the old garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck.

He knew he shouldn't have risen to Balder’s bait, but his cousin had a point. Hiccup was thinking the same thing…maybe he _didn't_ have any friends at Berk at all…

 _"Wish Astrid and Ragnar could see the famous Hiccup Haddock now,"_ he thought savagely, as he spread manure on the flowerbeds, his back aching, sweat running down his face.

It was half past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, he heard Aunt SkaÐi calling him.

"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"

Hiccup gladly moved into the shade of the spotless, gleaming kitchen. On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding; a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.

"Eat quickly! The Malisons will be here soon!" Aunt SkaÐi snapped, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a hideous, salmon-pink cocktail dress.

Hiccup washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. He missed when Blood-Spatter was able to hunt for their food.

The moment he had finished, Aunt SkaÐi whisked away his plate. "Upstairs! Hurry up!"

As he passed the door to the living room, he caught a glimpse of Uncle Björn and Balder in bow ties and dinner jackets. Balder’s barely fit him. Hiccup had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang, and Uncle Björn’s furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Remember, boy—one sound…"

"Of course," Hiccup muttered. "How could I forget?"

He crossed the floor to his bedroom on tiptoes, slipped inside, closed the door and turned to collapse on his unmade bed, hoping tonight would pass without further issue.

But alas, misfortune had already arrived, and it was sitting patiently on his bed.

* * *

**Because that's how life works for Hiccup. He's not allowed to have it easy.**

**Favorite line from chapter (Yes I'm going to make this a thing now): "Neither of them had written to him all summer, despite the fact that Astrid had promised ( _promised_ ) that she was going to ask Hiccup to come and stay."**

**(Can you tell he's upset by the fact that he's heard nothing from Astrid)**

**Please remember to bookmark, comment and leave a Kudos on this story—remember, everyone who does gets recognized at the end!**

**Also,** **any and all suggestions are highly appreciated, and will most likely be used. Credit will always be given.**

**See you guys next Monday! ♥**


	2. Dobby's Warning

**So apparently I forgot that last Monday was Hufflepuff Pride Day. Whoops.**

**(Warning for abuse towards the end of the chapter. I'm about to make you all _really_ hate the Dalvors...)**

* * *

_Chapter Two: Dobby's Warning_

* * *

Hiccup just barely managed to contain a shout of  "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THOR ARE YOU?!" The last thing he needed was for his Uncle Björn to discover that something very "Not normal" was in his room.

The little creature in question had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Hiccup knew instantly that this was what had been watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.

As they stared at each other, Hiccup heard Balder’s voice drift from the hall below.

"May I take you coats, Mr and Mrs. Malison?"

The creature slowly slipped off of the bed, and without taking it's eyes off of Hiccup, bowed so low that the end of its long thin nose touched the carpet. Hiccup noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase with rips in it for the arms and leg, but curious as he was, now was not the time to ask questions.

"Uh, hello," Hiccup said nervously.

"Hiccup Haddock," the creature squeaked; Hiccup was sure that its high-pitched voice would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir…such an _honor_ it is…"

"Th-thank you," Hiccup said, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter, who were sound asleep in their large cage. "What— _who_ are you?"

"Dobby, sir, just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," the creature introduced himself.

"I've met elves before at Berk in Raven's Point," Hiccup said.

"Oh, Dobby isn't like the wood-elves, sir; they are far more grand than Dobby could ever be," Dobby admitted.

Hiccup wanted to ask, "What do you mean by that?" but at that moment Aunt SkaÐi’s high, false laugh sounded from the living room. There was still a dinner party going on downstairs, and he would get his face beat in if something— _anything—_ went wrong. So instead, Hiccup said, "Uh, not to be rude or anything, but this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom. So…if you wouldn't mind, could you maybe come back tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Dobby squeaked nervously, as though he thought Hiccup was about to attack him. "Dobby understands, sir…it's just that…Dobby has come to tell you…it is difficult, sir…Dobby wonders where to begin…"

"Why don't you sit down?" Hiccup asked politely, pointing at the bed.

Apparently, he shouldn’t have said this.

"S-sit down, you want me to s-sit down!" Dobby repeated, before he began to cry his eyes out.

Hiccup glanced nervously at the door, and thought that he heard the voices downstairs falter.

"Dobby, sh," he whispered urgently, "I’m sorry, I didn't mean to offend you—"

"Offend Dobby!" the elf choked. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a Viking…as though he is an _equal_ —"

"Huh, then you can't have met many decent Vikings then," Hiccup said, trying to cheer him up.

"No, he hasn't," Dobby agreed. Then his face fell when he realized what he had said. "That was a terrible thing to say."

He then began to bang his head on Hiccup's desk, shouting, "Bad Dobby, a very bad Dobby!"

"Dobby, stop it! Sh!" Hiccup hissed, pulling him away from the desk. Thankfully, Blood-Spatter and Sharpshot continued to sleep.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," the elf said, going slightly cross-eyed, "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir…"

"Your family? What do you mean by "your family"?"

"The Viking family Dobby serves, sir…Dobby is a house-self, bound to serve one house and one family forever…"

"So _that's_ what you meant when you said wood-elves were grander than you."

"Yes, sir. To wood-elves and dark-elves alike we are a stain on the word elf for serving humans."

"Does your family know that you're here?" Hiccup asked curiously.

Dobby shuddered as though he’d been dunked in ice.

"Oh no, sir, no…Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they _ever_ knew, sir—"

"Uh, don't you think they'll find it a little odd that you have to shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby always has to punish himself for something, sir. They let Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes the young master even reminds him to do extra punishments…"

"If you hate them so much, why don't you leave, try to escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free…Dobby will serve the family until the day he dies, sir…"

Hiccup stared.

"And here I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," he said. "Your family almost makes the Dalvors sound _human_. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Almost at once, Hiccup wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

"Please," Hiccup whispered frantically, "please be quiet, if the Dalvors hear anything, if they know you're here…"

"Hiccup Haddock asks if he can help Dobby…Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew…"

Hiccup was getting pretty tired of people telling him how great he was. It made him feel like he wasn’t good enough just being himself. He took a deep breath and said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of dragon dung. Honestly, I’m nobody special. I'm not even top of my year at Berk, that's Ragnar, he's—"

"Hiccup Haddock is humble and modest," Dobby said reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Hiccup Haddock speaks not of his triumph over the Dragon Lord."

"Who, you mean Drago Bludvist?" Hiccup asked.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," Hiccup apologized quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it."

Dobby leaned towards Hiccup, his eyes wide as headlamps.

"Dobby has heard," He said hoarsely, "that Hiccup Haddock met the Dragon Lord for a second time, just weeks ago…that Hiccup Haddock escaped the clutches of Hel yet again."

Hiccup nodded, and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.

"Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing, "Hiccup Haddock is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Hiccup Haddock; to warn him, even if he will have to shut his ears in the oven door later…Hiccup Haddock must not go back to Berk."

There was a silence then, broken only by chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Björn’s voice.

"N-not go back to Berk?" Hiccup stammered. "But-but I've got to go back…term starts on September the first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here, I never have. I belong in your world…Berk is my _home_."

"No, no, no," Dobby squeaked, shaking his head so hard that his ears flapped. "Hiccup Haddock must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Hiccup Haddock goes back to Berk, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" Hiccup asked in surprise.

"There is a plot, Hiccup Haddock. A plot to make horrible, terrible things happen at the Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries this year," Dobby whispered, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Hiccup Haddock must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What is this terrible thing?" Hiccup asked at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head madly against the wall.

"Alright, I get it!" Hiccup cried, grabbing the elf once again to stop him. "You can't say, I understand. But why are you warning _me_?" a sudden, very unpleasant thought struck him. "Wait a minute, this hasn't got anything to do with Dra—sorry, with the Dragon Lord, has it? You could just shake or nod," he added hastily, as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall yet again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"No—it’s not the Dragon Lord, sir."

But Dobby's eyes were wide, and he seemed to be trying to give Hiccup a hint. Hiccup, however, was completely at sea.

"Please tell me he hasn't got a brother or anything."

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever before.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Berk," Hiccup said. "Listen, you don't have to worry about me, Alvis the Noble is there for one thing. You know who Alvis the Noble is, don't you?"

Dobby bowed his head.

"Alvis the Noble is the greatest Headmaster Berk has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Alvis’s powers rival those of the Dragon Lord at the height of his strength. But sir," Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper, "There are powers that Alvis doesn't have…powers any decent Viking…"

And before Hiccup could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Hiccup's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with ear-splitting yelps. The dragons woke up, and growled angrily at the house-elf.

A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Hiccup, whose heart was thudding madly, heard Uncle Björn coming into the hall, calling, "Balder must have left his television on again, the rascal!"

"Quick! Get in the wardrobe!" Hiccup hissed, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door and flinging himself onto the bed just as the door handle turned.

"What—in—the—name—of— _Thor_ —are—you—doing?" Uncle Bjorn growled through gritted teeth. "You've just _ruined_ the punchline of my Japanese golfer joke…one more sound, boy, and you'll wish you'd never been born!"

He stomped flat-footed from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Shaking, Hiccup let Dobby out of the wardrobe.

"See what it's like here?" he hissed. "See why I've got to go back to Berk? It's the only place I've got _friends_."

"Friends that don't even _write_ to Hiccup Haddock," Dobby said slyly.

Hiccup paused, frowning. "How do _you_ know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Hiccup Haddock mustn't be angry with Dobby," Dobby said, backing away from Hiccup's reach, "Dobby did it for the best…"

" _Have you been stopping my letters_?"

"Dobby has them here, sir," the elf whispered. He pulled out a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Hiccup could make out a few with Ragnar's neat writing, many with Astrid's increasingly untidy scrawl, and even a scribbled note that looked as though it was from the Berk forge master, Gobber the Belch.

Dobby blinked up at Hiccup anxiously.

"Hiccup Haddock mustn't be angry…Dobby had hoped…if Hiccup Haddock thought his friends had forgotten him…Hiccup Haddock might not want to go back to school, sir…"

Hiccup, now finding it very hard not to yell, growled, "Give me those, _now_."

"No!" Dobby squealed.

Before Hiccup could stop him, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open and sprinted down the stairs.

Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Hiccup sprang after him, trying not to make a sound and hoping that the Dalvors wouldn't spot Dobby. He jumped the last six stairs, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room he heard Uncle Björn saying, "…tell SkaÐi that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr Malison, she's been dying to hear…"

Hiccup ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt his stomach disappear.

Aunt SkaÐi’s masterpiece of pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.

"No!" Hiccup croaked desperately. "Please…they'll kill me…"

He wasn’t joking.

"Hiccup Haddock must say he's not going back to school—"

"Dobby…please…"

"Say it, sir…"

"I can't!"

Dobby gave him a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Hiccup Haddock's own good."

The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. Dobby then faded away quietly, as if the wind took him.

There were screams from the dining room, and Uncle Björn burst into the kitchen to find Hiccup, rigid with shock and fear, covered from head to foot in Aunt SkaÐi’s pudding.

At first, it looked as though Uncle Björn would manage to gloss the whole thing over ('Just our nephew, he’s an orphan, he's very disturbed…meeting strangers’ upsets him, so we thought it would be better to keep him upstairs…') He shooed the shocked Malisons back to the dining room, promised Hiccup he would flay him to within an inch of his life when the Malisons had left, and handed him a mop. Aunt SkaÐi dug some vanilla ice-cream out of the freezer and Hiccup, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean, trying to think of the best way to avoid what was looking to be the worst beating of his entire life.

Uncle Björn might have still been able to make his deal…if it hadn't been for the Terrible Terror.

Aunt SkaÐi was just handing round a box of after-dinner mints when a grey scaled Terrible Terror flew through the dining room window. The good news was that to Muggles who didn't believe in magic, dragons in flight looked like birds. The bad news was that Mrs. Malison was apparently afraid of birds. The moment it landed on her head, dropped a letter into her lap, and flew out again, Mrs. Malison screamed like a spooked Thunderdrum and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr Malison only stayed long enough to say to the Dalvors that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke.

Hiccup knew what was coming next. He was clutching the mop for support as Uncle Björn advanced on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes.

"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the Terrible Terror had delivered. "Go on…read it!"

Hiccup took it and hoped beyond hope that it was a card wishing him happy birthday.

It wasn't. Of course it wasn’t.

_Dear Mr Haddock,_

_We have received intelligence that a piece of Wind Magic was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine._

_As you know, under-age Vikings are not permitted to perform magic outside of school, and further magic work on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under-Age Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C)._

_We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity which risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence, under section 13 of the International Confederation of Chiefs' Statute of Secrecy_

_Enjoy your holidays!_

_Yours sincerely_

_Honker the Messenger_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Dragon Ministry_

Hiccup looked up from the letter and gulped.

"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," Uncle Björn said quietly, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes.

"I-it…slipped my mind," Hiccup lied, taking a small step back.

Uncle Björn beared down on him like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared, and as Hiccup tried in vain to dodge his fists the man snarled, "Well, I've got news for you, boy…I'm locking you up…you are never going back to that school… _never_ …and if you try to use magic to magic yourself out, they'll expel you!"

And laughing like a maniac, he dragged Hiccup’s battered and bruised body back upstairs by his legs, seemingly making sure that his head bumped on each and every step.

* * *

Hiccup had to say this for his foul Uncle Björn; he definitely kept his word. The following morning, he paid a man to fit bars on Hiccup's window, claiming that Hiccup had attempted to kill himself in order to avoid suspicion. He himself fitted a cat-flap in the bedroom door, so that meager portions of food, barely enough to feed a caterpillar, could be pushed inside three times a day. They only let Hiccup out to use the bathroom in the morning and the evening, where Balder would be waiting to taunt him and push him around. Otherwise, he was locked in his room around the clock.

Uncle Björn would pass his door every so often and declare, "You're never going back to that school, runt. You've never going to see those freaky friends of yours again…never!"

Unfortunately, Hiccup was beginning to think that he was right.

* * *

Several days later, the Dalvors were showing no signs of relenting, and Hiccup couldn't see any way out of his situation, apart from burning down the door. He couldn't use Sharpshot or Blood-Spatter to do that, because Uncle Björn had put muzzles on them prevent them from shooting out flames. He spent his time lying on his bed, watching the sun sinking behind the bars on the window, and wondering miserably what was going to happen to him.

What was the good of magicking himself out of his room, if Berk would expel him for doing it? Yet life at Privet Drive had reached an all-time low. Now that the Dalvors knew they weren't going to be set on fire, he had lost his only protection. Dobby might have saved Hiccup from "horrible happenings" at Berk, but the way things were going, he'd probably starve to death anyway. He had made a silent promise to himself that if he got out of here and saw Dobby again, he'd feed him to Toothless, or set Astrid on him. Those thoughts made him feel a bit better. Alas, it would seem as if he’d never get a chance with him being stuck here and all.

The cat-flap rattled, and Aunt SkaÐi’s bony hand appeared, pushing a bowl of tinned soup into the room. Hiccup, whose insides were aching with hunger, jumped off of his bed and seized it.

He wasn't surprised to find that soup was practically stone cold, but he drank half of it in one gulp anyways. Then he crossed the room to the dragon’s cage and tipped the soggy chicken at the bottom of the bowl into the empty food tray. They sniffed the poor excuse for food and looked up at him in deep disgust.

"I know, I know, it’s disgusting, but that's all we have," Hiccup said grimly. "There isn’t much good in turning your noses up at it."

He put the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap and laid back down on the bed, somehow even hungrier than he had been before the soup.

Supposing he was still alive in another four weeks, what would happen if he didn't turn up at Berk? Would someone be sent to see why he hadn't come back? Would they be able to make the Dalvors let him go?

The room was growing dark. Exhausted, his stomach still rumbling from lack of food, and his mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, Hiccup fell into an uneasy sleep.

He dreamed that he was on show in a zoo, with a card reading 'Under-age Viking' attached to his cage. People goggled through the bars at him as he lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He saw Dobby's face in the crowd and shouted out, begging for help, but Dobby called, "Hiccup Haddock is safe there, sir!" and vanished. Then the Dalvors appeared, and Balder rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at him.

"Stop it," Hiccup muttered, as the rattling pounded in his head. "Leave me alone…cut it out…I'm trying to sleep…"

"Hiccup, please, wake up!"

Wait a minute…he knew that voice…

Hiccup’s eyes snapped open. "W-what...?"

Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone _was_ goggling through the bars at him: someone with sapphire blue eyes, golden blonde hair, and a button-nose.

Astrid Hofferson was right outside Hiccup's bedroom window.

* * *

**Hiccup's crush is right outside his window, folks. Y'know, If it weren't for the whole 'magic' thing, I would assume malnutrition had made the poor boy delirious...**

**Favorite line from chapter: "The good news was that to Muggles who didn't believe in magic, dragons in flight looked like birds. The bad news was that Mrs. Malison was apparently afraid of birds."**

**(Because of course she is)**

**Credit to my editor for fleshing out the abuse section; I wasn't sure how to do it properly, so I asked her for help.**


	3. The Burrow

**Ah, spring at last! Nothing gets those mental gears running like fresh air and sunlight. Today's chapter is proof of that.**

* * *

_Chapter Three: The Burrow_

* * *

_"Astrid!_ " Hiccup breathed, rushing over to the window and pushing it up so they could talk through the bars. "Astrid, what in the name of Thor are you…what the—?"

Hiccup's mouth fell open as the full impact of what he was seeing hit him. Astrid was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked in _mid-air_. Grinning at Hiccup from the front seats were Double and Trouble, Astrid's elder twin brothers.

"All right there, Hiccup?" they asked simultaneously.

Hiccup stared at them, then at Astrid, and then at the car. He rubbed at his eyes, certain he was seeing things. "I think I’ve finally started hallucinating from lack of food, because what I'm seeing is the three of you sitting in a flying car."

"You're not hallucinating, Hiccup," Astrid said firmly, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes as she did. She then gestured to the bars around his window. "Hiccup…when you said you felt like a caged animal here, I didn't think you were actually being _serious_."

"Ha-ha, very funny," Hiccup said, crossing his arms in a defensive sort of way.

Trouble looked at him. "Astrid’s written you letters asking you to stay for the rest of the summer about five times this week _alone_ ,"—He pointedly ignored Astrid’s protests—"Then Dad comes home and says that you'd gotten an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles…"

"It wasn't me," Hiccup groaned. "It was—Wait, how does your dad know?"

"He works for the Ministry," Trouble answered. "You _know_ we're not supposed to do magic outside school—"

"Look who's talking," Hiccup snorted, gesturing to the floating car.

"Oh, this doesn't count," Double called over his shoulder. "We're only borrowing this, it's Dad’s car, _we_ didn't enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with…"

"I told you, I didn't—Forget it; it'll take too long to explain now. Look, can you explain to the people at the Ministry that the Dalvors have locked me up and won't let me come back, and obviously I can't magic myself out, because the Ministry will think that's the second bit of magic I've done in three days, so—"

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Hiccup, do you really think that we'd come all this way just to say hello? We're going to bust you out and take you home with us."

"But you can't magic me out either—"

"We don't need to," she said, jerking her head towards the front seats with a sly little grin. "You forget who I've got with me."

"Tie that around the bars," Double instructed, throwing the end of an old rope to Hiccup.

"If the Dalvors wake up, I'm dead," Hiccup said, as he tied the rope as tight as he could around a bar and Double revved up the car’s engine. "Actually, scratch that, I’ll be _worse_ than dead."

"Don't worry," Double assured him, "and uh, you may want to stand back."

Hiccup moved back into the shadows next to Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter, who seemed to have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Double drove straight up in the air. Hiccup ran back to the window to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Astrid then hoisted them up into the car. Hiccup listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dalvors' bedroom.

When the bars were safely in the back seat with Astrid, Double revered the car as closely as possible to Hiccup's window.

"Get in," Astrid said. She held out her hand to help him climb inside. Hiccup wanted to grab on immediately, but he hesitated.

"But all of my Berk stuff…my crystal eye…my saddle…"

"Where are they?"

"Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can't get out of this room—"

"No problem," Trouble said. He went looking through his pockets, cursed, then glanced at Astrid. "Sis, mind if I borrow a hairpin?"

Astrid nodded and pulled a small, bright red hairpin out of her golden blonde hair. The sight of the tiny object caught Hiccup off guard. He knew perfectly well that Astrid wasn't the type of girl that would own such a thing. He’d heard her mock some of the ones that did. So why was one in her hair?

After being handed the hairpin from Astrid, Double and Trouble carefully climbed through the window into Hiccup's room. Trouble then began to pick the lock on his door.

"Now a lot of Vikings would normally try to kick the door down or something, and think it's a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick," Double explained, "but we feel they're skills worth learning, even if they _are_ a bit slow."

"It's also less noise, which is better for stealth," Trouble added. "We’ve been teaching Astrid, too."

Well, that explained why she had a hairpin.

There was a small, barely audible _click_ , and the door swung open.

"So—we'll get your trunk—you grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Astrid," Trouble whispered.

"Watch out for the bottom stair, it creaks," Hiccup whispered back, as the twin disappeared onto the dark landing.

Hiccup raced around his room as quietly as he could, collecting his things and passing them out of the window to Astrid. While doing this, Hiccup couldn't help but think about how beautiful she looked in the moonlight, with her golden blonde hair rivaling the glow of the stars themselves. She was grinning still, an excited, impish grin that had his heart pounding like a drum.

He had had this stupid crush on Astrid from the day they met, almost one year ago, and that introduction hadn’t gone very well. She had hated him at first, but that attitude had changed when he and Ragnar saved her from a mountain troll on Halloween. Now she was his friend, and a very good one at that. Even still, the crush remained as strong as ever, and Hiccup found it hard to act natural around her. He knew for a fact that attempting to "woo" Astrid would backfire horribly, because every boy that had ever tried that ended up in the school Infirmary. He highly doubted being her friend would exclude him from that treatment; if anything, it might mean getting hit worse. And even if that _wasn’t_ the case (and that was a pretty big if), the dead would come back to life before Astrid Hofferson ever returned _anyone’s_ romantic interest, much less his.

Live with _her_ for the rest of the summer? He was going to need help from the Gods themselves if he wanted to keep her from finding out how he felt.

After passing his things to her, he went to help Double and Trouble heave his trunk up the stairs. Perhaps it was just his paranoid imagination, but Hiccup thought he heard Uncle Björn cough.

At last, panting, they reached the landing, and then carried the trunk through Hiccup's room to the open window. Double climbed back into the car to pull with Astrid, and Hiccup and Trouble pushed from the bedroom side. Inch by inch, the trunk slid through the window.

This time it definitely wasn’t his imagination; Uncle Björn coughed again, louder this time.

"A bit more," Double panted, pulling from inside the car, "one good push…"

Hiccup and Trouble threw their shoulders against the trunk, and it slid out of the window into the back of the car.

"Okay, let's go," Trouble whispered.

But as Hiccup climbed onto the windowsill, there came two loud roars of _“HICCUP!”_ from behind him, followed immediately by the thundering of Uncle Björn’s voice.

"THOSE BLASTED LIZARDS!"

"I've forgotten the dragons!"

Hiccup tore back across the room as the landing light clicked on—He grabbed the cage, rushed back to the window and tossed it out to Astrid, who just barely managed to not drop it. He was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Uncle Björn hammered on the unlocked door—and it crashed open.

For a single, terrifying moment, Uncle Björn stood framed in the doorway. Then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and charged.

Hiccup had never seen his uncle move so fast. He dove across the room like a dragon taking flight and grabbed Hiccup by his ankle.

Astrid, Double and Trouble seized Hiccup's arms and pulled as hard as they could.

"SKAÐI! SKAÐI! GET IN HERE!" Uncle Björn roared. "He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!" He glared at Hiccup, who was struggling to get away. "OH NO BOY, YOU AND THOSE BLASTED LIZARDS AREN'T GOING ANYWHERE!"

But with a mighty yell, the Hoffersons gave a gigantic tug, and Hiccup's leg slid out of Uncle Björn’s grasp—The man tumbled out of the window—Hiccup was in the car—he slammed the door shut—"Put your foot down, Double!" Astrid yelled—and the car instantly shot towards the moon.

Hiccup couldn't believe it—he was _free_! He wound down the window and stuck his head out. The night air whipped his hair around, making him feel relieved. It was a feeling he liked when he flew on Toothless' back. He looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Aunt SkaÐi and Balder were looking at Uncle Björn, who had landed safely in the shrubs below Hiccup’s window and was staring at the car in utter disbelief.

"I'll see you all next summer!" he yelled.

The Hoffersons roared with laughter, and Hiccup settled back in his seat beside Astrid, smiling and happy for the first time since the holidays had begun.

"Let Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter out," he told her, "they can fly behind us. They haven’t had a chance to stretch out their wings in ages."

Trouble handed Astrid back her hairpin and a moment later, Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter were out of the cage. Once Hiccup had removed the muzzles, they joyfully flew out of the window to glide alongside them like ghosts. Hiccup watched them for a long moment, before he pulled back inside.

Astrid immediately pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapped tightly around him. Double and Trouble smirked and winked at him.

Hiccup’s face flushed red. It was very rare for Astrid to hug him without punching him before or after, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t prefer it that way, but it made it a lot harder than it already was to act like he only saw her as a friend. Plus, he simply wasn’t _used_  to hugs; the Dalvors had never hugged him in his life. He didn’t know how he was really supposed to react to such affection.

"Uh…T-thank you for saving me?" he stuttered, awkwardly patting Astrid’s back and praying he wasn’t doing it wrong.

"We're even now, and besides, I _was_ worried about you," Astrid admitted as she pulled away. Hiccup wasn't sure with it being so dark, but he could have sworn that she was blushing. "Speaking of which, what's been happening?"

Hiccup told them all about Dobby, the warning he'd given Hiccup, and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked silence when he had finished.

"Very fishy," Double said at last.

"Definitely dodgy," Trouble agreed. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"I don't think he could," Hiccup said. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he would start banging his head against the wall."

He saw Double and Trouble look at each other.

"What, you think he was lying to me?" Hiccup asked.

"Well..." Double said slowly, "put it this way—house-elves, like all other elves, have powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you from coming back to Berk. It was probably someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at the academy with a grudge against you?"

"Yes," Hiccup and Astrid said together.

"Snotlout Jorgenson," Hiccup explained with a grimace. "He hates me."

"Snotlout Jorgenson?" Trouble asked, turning around. "Not Spitelout Jorgenson's son?"

"That’s the one," Hiccup said. "Why do you ask?"

"I've heard Dad talking about him," Trouble said. "He was a big supporter of the Dragon Lord."

"And when the Dragon Lord disappeared," Double added, craning his neck to look at Hiccup, "Spitelout Jorgenson was among the first to come back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dragon dung—Dad reckons he was right in the Dragon Lord's inner circle."

Hiccup had heard these rumors about Snotlout's family before, and they didn't surprise him at all. Snotlout was a lot like Balder, but had a massive ego that made his cousin look like a kind, thoughtful and sensitive boy. He also had a crush on Astrid, which was probably the only thing the two boys had in common, but Snotlout was a jerk even to her.

"Isn't Snotlout the one that keeps on hitting on you?" Trouble asked Astrid.

"Yes, he keeps saying that he can spare me from our family's dishonor," Astrid grumbled.

"Like father like son," Trouble snorted. "I heard that Spitelout hit on every pretty girl he met, apart from the Muggle-borns of course."

"I don't know whether the Jorgenson's own a house-elf…" Hiccup said.

"Well, whoever owns him will be an old Viking family, and they'll be rich," Double said.

"Yeah, Mum's always wished we had a house-elf to do the ironing," Trouble said. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and fortresses and places like that; you wouldn't catch one _dead_ in our house…"

Hiccup was silent. Judging by the fact that Snotlout usually had the best of everything, his family was rolling in Viking gold; he could just see Snotlout strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop Hiccup from going back to Berk also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Snotlout would do.

Had Hiccup been stupid to take Dobby seriously?

Astrid then spoke up. "At least this explains why we hadn't heard from you. I thought it was Everwild’s fault at first—"

"Who's Everwild?"

"Our Terrible Terror. She's _ancient_. It wouldn't be the first time she'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Harmed—"

"Who’s that _?_ "

"The Terrible Terror Mum and Dad bought Askeladden when he was made a prefect," Double said.

"But Askeladden wouldn’t lend him to me," Astrid went on. "He told me he needed him."

"Askeladden’s been acting very oddly this summer," Trouble said, frowning. "And he _has_ been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room…I mean, there are only so many times you can polish a Prefect badge…Double, you're driving too far west," he added, pointing at a compass on the dashboard. Double twiddled the steering wheel.

"So, does your Dad know you've got the car?" Hiccup asked, guessing the answer in his head.

"Uh, no," Astrid admitted sheepishly, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we took it."

"Why didn't you fly by dragon?"

"Because we've only got two dragons at home, and Dad rode his to work."

"What does your Dad do at the Ministry, anyway?"

"He works in the most boring department," Astrid answered. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"The _what_?"

"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old Valkyrie died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home and tried to serve her friends tea with it. It was a bloody _nightmare_ —Dad was working overtime for weeks."

"Why? What happened?"

"Turns out the old Valkyrie was able to master the use of Water Magic, and made her teapot shoot water into cups. The only problem was that in the hands of a Muggle it went berserk, and squirted boiling tea all over the place. One man wound up in the hospital because of it; somehow the sugar tongs clamped to his nose and got stuck there. Dad was going frantic—it's only him and an old Viking called Throttlebottom in the office—they had to do a Memory spell and all sorts of stuff to cover it up…"

"But your Dad…this car…"

Double laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it and puts it back together. That's how he got the name Bjartr the Tinkering. If he raided _our_ house he'd have to arrest himself. It drives Mum insane."

"That's the main road," Trouble said, peering down through the windscreen. "We'll be there in about ten minutes…just as well, it's getting light…"

Sure enough, a faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east. Double brought the car lower, and Hiccup saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.

"We're a little way outside the village," Trouble told him. "Ottery St Catchpole."

Lower and lower the flying car went. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees.

"And...touchdown!" Double cried as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Hiccup looked out for the first time at Astrid's house.

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added on here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it was being held up solely by magic ( _"which it probably was,"_ Hiccup reminded himself). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, "The Burrow". Next to the building was a stable where an orange and blue Deadly Nadder slept (Hiccup guessed it was Mrs. Hofferson's). Round the front door lay a jumble of thick leather boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

"It's not much, but it's home," Astrid said.

"I think it's _brilliant_ ," Hiccup said happily, thinking of Privet Drive.

They got out of the car.

"Can I just ask how you're going to explain how I turned up, at your house, in just one night?" Hiccup asked.

"It's simple," Double replied as they made their way to the front door. "We'll go upstairs really quietly and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then Astrid, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see you and no one need ever know we flew the car—"

"Yeah, I'm afraid that's not going to work," Astrid said, looking at the front door.

They all turned around, and the twins turned a nasty greenish color, their eyes fixed at what Astrid was staring at.

Mrs. Hofferson was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like Astrid did whenever she lost her temper.

"Oh no, she’s caught us!" Double exclaimed.

"Mum!" Trouble moaned.

"Da da da, we’re dead," Hiccup muttered.

Mrs. Hofferson came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. (She had a harder time doing it with Hiccup, who had leapt behind Astrid) She was wearing a plain blue apron and, rather worryingly, had a double bladed axe strapped to her back.

"Do you _know_ how worried I've been?" Mrs. Hofferson began in a deceptively quiet tone. Then the dam burst, and the Hofferson twins cowered as the raging flood waters washed over them.

_**"** **B** _ **_eds empty! No note! Car gone—out of my mind with worry—did you care?—never, as long as I've lived..."_ **

On and on it went, until Astrid apparently couldn’t take it any longer.

_**"** _**_They had bars on his window!"_ ** she shouted back at her mother. Mrs. Hofferson halted in mid-scream. _**"** _**_They were keeping Hiccup prisoner!"_ **

"They were starving him to death, Mum," Double added in a small voice, taking advantage of his mother's silence. "He thought he was hallucinating when he saw us."

"And it was Double and mine’s idea to go and get Hiccup; Astrid had nothing to do with it. We dragged her along," Trouble added quickly.

Mrs. Hofferson’s face went from red to white in an instant as the blood drained out and her fury died. She blinked uncertainly and peered at Hiccup, who was staring at her from over Astrid’s shoulder. He silently hoped that she couldn’t tell that he’d been beaten a few days ago.

"I—Well I’m very pleased to see you, Hiccup, dear," she said, surprisingly calm and kind all of a sudden. "Come in and have some breakfast."

She turned and walked back into the house. Hiccup cast a nervous and questioning glance at Astrid, who nodded encouragingly, before following her.

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle and Hiccup sat down on the edge of his seat, looking around. He had never been in a Viking house before.

The clock on the wall opposite him had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like "Time to make dinner", "Time to feed the chickens", and "You're late". Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like _Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking_ and _one Minute Feasts—It's Magic!_ And unless Hiccup's ears were deceiving him, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Valkyrie Hour, with the popular singing Valkyrie, Warbeck the Warbler."

Mrs. Hofferson was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't know _what_ you were thinking of," and " _never_ would believe it".

"I don't blame _you_ , dear," she assured Hiccup, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate, "Bjartr and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Astrid by Friday. But really," (she was now adding fried eggs to his plate), "flying an illegal car halfway across the country—anyone could have seen you—"

She snapped her fingers, and water shot out of the tap in the sink. It began to clean the dishes by itself, one by one.

"It was _cloudy_ , mum," Trouble said.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Hofferson snapped. She looked over at Astrid, who was pointedly avoiding her gaze, and sighed heavily. "I know you three were worried, especially you Astrid, but there is a right way to do things, and flying an _illegal_ car isn't one of them." She then glanced at Hiccup, who was more inhaling the food than he was eating it, and added, "though I doubt he could have survived until Friday if they really _were_ starving him."

After that, she softened up a bit, and began cutting Hiccup bread and buttering it for him.

At that moment, there was a diversion in the form of a small blond-headed figure in threadbare pajamas, which appeared in the kitchen. When he saw Hiccup, he just stared at him with widened eyes.

"Uh, hi," was all Hiccup could think to say.

The boy then spun around and rushed out as fast as his legs could carry him.

Hiccup looked at Astrid, whose face showed slight amusement. "What did I do wrong?"

"That’s Egill," Astrid said, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. "My little brother. He’s been questioning me about you all summer."

"Yeah, he's your biggest fan," Double grinned, before he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word.

Nothing more was said until all four plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short amount of time.

"By Odin, I'm tired," Double yawned, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and—"

"You will not," Mrs. Hofferson snapped. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You’re to de-gnome the garden for me, they're getting completely out of hand again."

"Oh, Mum—"

"And you," she said, glaring at Trouble. Apparently she had bought their "Astrid did nothing" story, because she then turned to him. "You can go up to bed dear; _you_ didn't ask them to fly that wretched car."

But Hiccup, who felt wide awake, said quickly, "I'll help them, I've never seen a de-gnoming—"

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," Mrs. Hofferson said. "Now, let's see what Flashburn has got to say on the subject."

And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. Trouble groaned.

"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden."

Hiccup looked at the cover of Mrs. Hofferson's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters were the words: _Flashburn the Flashmaster's Guide to Household Pests._ Beneath those words was a big photograph of a very good-looking Viking with wavy blond hair, a well-brushed beard and bright blue eyes. As always in the Viking world, the photograph was moving; the Viking, who Hiccup supposed was Flashburn the Flashmaster, kept winking cheekily up at them all. Mrs. Hofferson beamed down at him.

"Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all right; it's a wonderful book…"

"Mum fancies him," Double said, in a very audible whisper. Hiccup tried not to laugh.

Mrs. Hofferson put the book back, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Don't be so ridiculous, Double," she said, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you know better than Flashburn, you can go and get on with it, and woes betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."

Yawning and grumbling, the Hofferson twins slouched outside with Hiccup and Astrid behind them. The garden was large and, in Hiccup's eyes, exactly what a garden should be. The Dalvors wouldn't have liked it—there were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting—but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants Hiccup had never seen spilling from every flowerbed and a big green pond full of frogs.

"Muggles have garden gnomes too, you know," Hiccup told Astrid as they crossed the lawn.

"Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," Astrid said, bent double with her head in a peony bush. "Like fat little Odins with fishing rods…"

There was a violent scuffing noise, the peony bush shuddered and Astrid straightened up. " _This_ is a gnome," she said grimly.

It was certainly nothing like Odin. That was offensive to Odin.

The gnome was small and leathery-looking, with a large, knobby, bald head that looked distinctly like a potato. Astrid held it at arm's length as it kicked out at her with its horny little feet; she grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down.

"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" the gnome squealed, trying to escape Astrid’s viselike grip.

"This is what you have to do," Astrid said. She raised the gnome above her head ("Gerroff me!") and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked look on Hiccup's face, she quickly added, "It doesn't really _hurt_ them. You've just got to make them extremely dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnomeholes."

She let go of the gnome's ankles: it flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge.

"Pitiful," Double scoffed.

"I wasn’t aiming for my best, you moron."

"Well, I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."

"You don't have to do this you know," Trouble said to Hiccup, who was eagerly making his way to a bush.

"Are you kidding? This a lot more fun than the chores the Dalvors gave me," Hiccup said, as he bent down toward a bush. "Trust me, I felt like Cinderella."

"Who's Cinderella?" Astrid asked, looking confused.

"Never mind..."

Hiccup learnt quickly to not feel very sorry for the gnomes. He decided to just drop the first one he caught over the hedge, but the gnome, sensing his weakness, sank its razor-sharp teeth into Hiccup's finger, and he had a hard job shaking it off, until—

"Wow, Hiccup," Double said, sounding impressed. "That must've been fifty feet..."

The air was soon thick with flying gnomes, with Hiccup and Astrid competing against Double and Trouble.

"See, they're not too bright," Trouble said, seizing five or six gnomes at once. "The moment they realize the de-gnoming's going on, they all storm up to have a look. You'd think by now they'd have learned to just stay put."

Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.

"They'll be back," Astrid said, as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here…Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny…"

Just then they heard a dragon roar and the front door slammed.

"He's back!" Trouble said. "Dad’s come home!"

They hurried through the garden and back into the house.

Mr Hofferson was slumped in a kitchen chair with his eyes squeezed closed. He was a bit thin, and was going bald, but what little hair he had left was as blond as any of his children's. He was wearing an old fur cape, which was dusty and travel-worn.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the kettle as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus the Slimy tried to blast me away when I had my back turned, I’m lucky someone spotted him and warned me…"

Mr Hofferson took a long gulp of coffee and sighed.

"Find anything, Dad?" Double asked eagerly.

"No, son; all I got were a few shrinking door-keys and a biting kettle," Mr Hofferson yawned. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that _wasn't_ my department, though, Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Spells, thank _Odin_ …"

"Why would anyone bother making door-keys shrink?" Trouble scoffed. "That sounds like a waste of time..."

"It’s Muggle-baiting, that’s what it is," Mr Hofferson answered, sighing again. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking down to nothing so that they can never find it when they need it…of course, it's very hard to convict anyone for it, because no Muggle would admit their keys keeps shrinking. They'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic or admit that dragons exist, even if they are staring them right in the face…but the things our lot has taken to enchanting, you simply wouldn't _believe_ …" He looked around himself and noticed Hiccup sitting next to Astrid. "And who are you, m’boy?"

"Oh, sorry, sir," Hiccup said. "I'm Hiccup, Hiccup Haddock."

"Odin's beard, are you really? Well, Astrid's told us all about you of course. When did you get here?"

"This morning," Mrs. Hofferson said, glaring daggers at her husband. "And while we're on the subject of enchanted Muggle items, just when were you planning to tell me that you placed a powerful bit of Wind Magic on that rust car you bought, when you assured me all you wanted to do was take it apart to see how it worked?"

Mr Hofferson blinked.

"Well, Ingrid, dear, I think you'll find that I am quite within the law to do that, even if, uh, I'd done better to tell my loving wife the truth…There's a loophole in the law, you'll find…as long as he wasn't _intending_ to fly the car, the fact that the car _could_ fly wouldn't—"

"Bjartr Hofferson, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" Mrs. Hofferson shouted. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, your daughter and sons flew that car to Hiccup's house and back last night in the car you weren't intending to fly! What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really?" Mr Hofferson asked them eagerly. "How did it go? I-I mean," he faltered, as sparks flew from Mrs. Hofferson's eyes, "that was very wrong, very wrong indeed…"

Let's leave them to it," Astrid muttered to Hiccup, as Mrs. Hofferson swelled up like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you my bedroom; that’s where you’ll be staying."

They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which zigzagged its way up through the house. It wasn’t until they reached the third landing that Hiccup finally spoke.

"You sure it's all right for me to sleep in your room?" he asked, feeling embarrassed and slightly flustered.

"Of course it's all right," Astrid said. "Mum and Dad agreed with me that my bedroom was the best for you. Askeladden would bore you to death, Double and Trouble's room keeps exploding, and Egill would run out the second you stepped through the door."

Hiccup then noticed a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him through the doorway, before it closed with a snap.

"See what I mean?" Astrid asked, scoffing. "He's _never_ that shy, and it's weird."

They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it, saying "Astrid's Room—Stay Out."

Hiccup stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked. It was like walking into a deep dark forest: nearly everything in Astrid's room seemed to be a violent shade of emerald green: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Hiccup realized that Astrid had covered nearly every inch of shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven Valkyries, all wearing emerald green Viking outfits and all waving energetically, each with a different dragon standing behind them.

"Your Dragon Racing team, I take it?" Hiccup asked.

"The Holyhead Harpies," Astrid said, pointing at the dark green bedspread, which was emblazoned with a golden talon. "They're both brilliant and dangerous."

Astrid's academy spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner. Astrid's axe, with her crystal eye still in it, was hooked to the wall. Scabbard, Astrid's pet rat, was snoozing on the windowsill in a patch of sun.

Hiccup stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out of the tiny window. In the field far below he could see a gang of gnomes sneaking one by one back through the Hofferson's hedge. Then he turned to look at Astrid, who was watching him almost nervously, as though waiting for his opinion.

"I know it's a bit small," she said quickly. "Not like that room you had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning—"

But Hiccup, grinning widely, said, "I love it, Astrid. This is the best house I've ever been in."

Astrid’s face tinged as red as her hairpin.

* * *

**Aw...aren't they cute?**

**Favorite line from chapter (and I had a _lot_ of 'em): "Plus, he simply wasn’t _used_  to hugs; the Dalvors had never hugged him in his life. He didn’t know how he was really supposed to react to such affection."**

**(Friendly reminder that Astrid is currently Hiccup's only association with affection)**

**Throttlebottom is an actual word, BTW—apparently it means " a harmless incompetent in public office". No word yet on how accurate it is.**

** Remember, any and all suggestions are highly appreciated. Credit is always given. **

** Until next Monday, my friends! **


	4. At Flourish and Blotts

**This is not my fault.**

**Verizon was doing some work near my house, so my internet was cut off. It's still down; I'm actually in school right now, trying to get this out as fast as possible.**

**Here we go!**

* * *

_Chapter Four: At Flourish and Blotts_

* * *

 As days went by, it became very apparent to Astrid that life at The Burrow was very different from Hiccup’s life at Privet Drive.

From what little Hiccup had told her about the Dalvors, she knew that they liked everything "neat and orderly", so to find her house bursting with strange and unexpected things was clearly making him feel nervous. Astrid had almost laughed at the priceless look of shock on his face the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and when it shouted back, " _Put your helmet on, scruffy!_ " He also jumped like a scalded cat every time the ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes, which he did whenever he felt things were too quiet, and yelped when small explosions happened in Double and Trouble's bedroom. But the thing that seemed to make him more nervous than anything else was the fact that the rest of her family seemed to actually _like_ him. Not that she could blame him; after all, he’d been stuck for eleven years with his horrid relatives, who had the audacity to call themselves _normal people_.

Her mother fussed over the state of his clothes, and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Her father liked Hiccup to sit next to him at dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things called plugs and postal service worked.

" _Amazing!_ " he would say, as Hiccup rather patiently talked him through using some device called a fellytone or something, " _Ingenious_ , really, how many way Muggles have found of getting along without magic."

In Astrid's opinion it sounded like they enjoyed making life more difficult for themselves.

They didn't hear from Berk until a nice sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at The Burrow. She and Hiccup went down to breakfast to find her mum and dad and Egill already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment he saw Hiccup, half concentrated on the conversation they had been having, Egill accidentally knocked his porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter.

"Oh, for the last time, Egill," Astrid said, getting tired of saying this over and over again. "Just pretend that he's someone else, like a…I don't know, a scrawny looking Viking."

(It usually helped her)

"Thank you Milady, you really know what to say," Hiccup said in a sarcastic tone. Astrid punched his shoulder, but she couldn’t quite hold back a laugh.

"Enough of that, dears," her Mum chastised as they sat down together.

"Here are your letters, you two," her Dad said, passing Astrid and Hiccup identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressing in green ink. "Alvis already knows you're here, Hiccup; doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two have got them, too," he added, as Double and Trouble ambled in, still in their pajamas.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Astrid's told her to catch the Berk Express as usual from Kings Cross station on September the first. There was also a list of the new books she'd need for the coming year.

**Second year students will require:**

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Goshhawk the Guiding

_Duel with a Dark-elf_ by Flashburn the Flashmaster

_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Flashburn the Flashmaster

_Holiday with Hags_ by Flashburn the Flashmaster

_Travels with Trolls_ by Flashburn the Flashmaster

_Dancing with Demons_ by Flashburn the Flashmaster

_Wandering with Werewolves_ by Flashburn the Flashmaster

_Fighting with Frost-giants_ by Flashburn the Flashmaster

Double, who had finished his own list, peered over at Astrid's.

"You've been told to get all Flashburn's books too!" he said. "The new Combat Arts teacher must be a big fan of his—bet you anything it's a Valkyrie."

At this point, Double caught their mother's eyes and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won't come cheap," Trouble said, with a quick look at their parents. "Flashburn's books are really expensive…"

"Well, we'll manage," Mum said, but she looked worried. Astrid couldn't blame her; they weren't exactly rich. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Egill's things second-hand."

"Oh, are you starting at Berk this year?" Hiccup asked Egill.

Egill nodded, looking both nervous and embarrassed that Hiccup had talked to him. He was so nervous and embarrassed that he put his elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Astrid and Hiccup, because at that moment Astrid's elder brother Askeladden walked in. He was already dressed, and just like always he had his Berk prefect badge pinned to his knitted tank top.

"Morning, all," he greeted briskly. "Lovely day."

He sat down in the only remaining chair, but leapt up again almost immediately; pulling from underneath him a very old, grey scaled Terrible Terror.

"Everwild!" Astrid said, taking the limp Terrible Terror from Askeladden and extracting a letter from her leg. " _Finally_ —she's got Ragnar's answer."

Astrid carried Everwild to a perch just inside the back of the door and tried to stand her on it, but with a warble that sounded awfully like _"Help"_ , the dragon flopped straight off again, so she laid her down on the draining board instead. Then she ripped open Ragnar's letter and read it out loud:

_Dear Astrid (and Hiccup, if you're there)_

_I hope the rescue mission went off without a hitch, and that Hiccup is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Astrid, because that would get Hiccup into trouble, too, though knowing you and your twin brothers you probably did. Anyway, like you I've been worried about Hiccup and if he's alright, will you please let me know at once, but I suggest that you should use a different Terrible Terror, because I think another delivery might finish yours off._

_I'm very busy with work we got from the academy, of course_ —"Just like him to be busy during the holidays," Astrid said, shaking her head in disbelief— _and my Mum and I are going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?_

_Let me know what's happening as soon as you can, Ragnar._

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," Mum said, starting to clean the table. "What're you all up to today?"

Astrid, Hiccup, Egill, Double and Trouble were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock that they owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Dragon Racing there, as long as they didn't fly too high. They couldn't use real Dragon Racing balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead they threw apples at each other to catch. Also they had to fly on wild dragons that lived close by, because Hiccup, Double and Trouble's dragons were back at Berk, and Astrid and Egill didn't have dragons of their own yet. They took it in turns to ride on Hiccup's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best saddle; the old Shooting Star Astrid and Egill shared made the dragons so slow that they could be passed by passing butterflies.

Since they had an odd number of people, Astrid and Egill found themselves taking turns acting as referee. It was usually Egill, since he felt faint at the thought of playing beside Hiccup.

Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, saddles in their arms. They had asked Askeladden if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. In fact the only time they ever saw him was at mealtimes; he stayed in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," Double said, frowning. "He's not himself. His exams results came the day before Hiccup did; twelve V.A.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Viking Average Levels," Trouble explained, seeing Hiccup's puzzled look. "Hakon got twelve too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

Hakon was Astrid's oldest brother. He and her next brother Einar had already left Berk. Hiccup had never met them, but Astrid told him about them: Einar was now called, "the Researcher", he studied dragons in their natural habitats, and protected them from Dragon Hunters; Hakon, meanwhile, was now called, "the Bold" and he was in the Barbaric Archipelago, the homeland of all Vikings in the world, working for the Viking bank, Gringotts.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our academy stuff this year," Trouble said after a while. "Five sets of Flashburn’s books! And Egill needs some proper Viking clothing, a Crystal eye and everything; we don’t have hand-me-downs that he could use…"

Astrid couldn't help but think that Trouble had a point. Unlike Hiccup, she didn't have a small fortune in Gringotts, and unlike Ragnar she couldn’t trade in Muggle money, unless you counted the fifty pence piece that she got from Hiccup last Snoggletog, but judging from his expression that day it wasn't worth all that much.

* * *

 Astrid's mother woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their fur coats and her mother took the flower pot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

"We're running low, Bjartr," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today…ah well, guest first! After you, Hiccup dear!"

And she offered him the flowerpot.

Hiccup stared at them all watching him. Astrid then realized what the problem was.

"Uh, Mum, Hiccup's never travelled by Floo powder," she said. "Sorry, Hiccup, I forgot."

"Never travelled by Floo powder?" Dad asked, bewildered. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your academy things last year?"

"Gobber flew me there on his dragon, Grump."

"Well, I'm afraid that'll take too long, dear. Besides, we've only got two dragons with us," her mother said.

"Don't worry, Mum," Double said. "Hiccup can watch us go first."

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Double, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

Astrid looked at Hiccup, who stared at the place were Double just vanished, his eyes widened. She couldn't blame him for being nervous; she herself had been a bit freaked out the first time she watched one of her brothers do it.

"You must speak clearly, dear," her mother told Hiccup, as Trouble dipped his hand into the flowerpot, "And mind you get out at the right grate…"

"What do you mean, the right gate?" Hiccup asked nervously, as the fire roared and whipped Trouble out of sight too.

"Well, there are an awful lot of Viking fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly—"

"He'll be fine, Ingrid, don't fuss," Dad said.

"What will his aunt and uncle say if he got lost?"

"Mum, we rescued him from his room which had bars on the window," Astrid said, rolling her eyes.

"She's right," Hiccup added. "Balder would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney."

"Well…all right…you can go next," Mum said. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going—"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Astrid advised.

"And your eyes shut tight," Mum said, "The soot—"

"Don't fidget," Astrid said. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace—"

"But don't panic and get out too early, wait until you see Double and Trouble."

Looking at Hiccup, Astrid realized with a wince that they had made him feel even more nervous. Hiccup took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames and stepped forward.

"Diagonalley," he said.

Then just like Double and Trouble, he vanished. However, Astrid had a terrible feeling they wouldn't be meeting him in the Dragon’s Flame, and her mother was thinking on the same lines.

"What did he say, dear?" she asked.

"Diagonalley," Dad said.

"I thought he did," Mum said in a worried tone.

* * *

Hiccup wasn't having a very enjoyable trip.

It felt like being sucked down a giant plug hole. He was spinning so fast that he thought he was going to be sick…he prayed to every god and goddess he could think of to make it stop.

At last, he came zooming out of a fireplace. He was dizzy, bruised and covered in soot; he got to his feet gingerly and brushed the soot out of his eyes.

It was abundantly clear that this place was _not_ the Dragon’s Flame. He could tell that it was a large, dimly-lit shop, clearly one meant for Vikings and Valkyries, but nothing in the place was ever likely to be on the Berk Dragon Academy school supplies list.

A glass case nearby held such wonderful objects as a withered hand on a moth-eaten cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks leered down from the walls, an assortment of human and dragon bones lay upon the counter and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Hiccup could see through the dusty shop windows was definitely not Diagon Alley.

Every bone in his body told him to get out and get out _fast_. He quickly made his way to the door, but before he had even made it halfway towards it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass, and one of them happened to be the very last person Hiccup wanted to meet, especially right now.

Snotlout Jorgenson.

Cursing under his breath, Hiccup looked around to find a place to hide. He soon found the perfect place; a large black cabinet. Without a second thought, he shot inside of it and pulled the doors almost shut, leaving only a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Snotlout stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be his father. He had the same black hair, and a beard that was poorly shaved. Mr Jorgenson crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Snotlout."

Snotlout, who had reached for the glass eye, scoffed. "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I _said_ I would buy you a racing saddle," his father said, before he began to bang his fist on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the house team?" Snotlout said, looking bad-tempered. "Hiccup Haddock got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year, _and_ he rides a Night Fury. He got special permission from Alvis the Noble so that he could play for the Gryffindor team. He's not even that good a player! And he's a runt to boot. It’s just because he's _famous_ …famous for having a stupid _scar_ on his forehead."

Snotlout bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

"Everyone thinks he's so _smart_ and _brave_ , wonderful _Hiccup Haddock_ with his _scar_ , his _saddle_ and his _Night Fury_ —"

"I would have thought that would give you more reason to get your act together and become _better_ than him," Mr Jorgenson said, an angry look on his face. "And I would like to remind you that it is not a good idea to appear less fond of Hiccup Haddock, not when most of our weaker-minded kind regard him as the hero who made the Dragon Lord disappear—ah, Borgin the Bargaining."

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face and brushing crumbs off of his scruffy beard.

"Spitelout the Stern! What a pleasure to see you again," Borgin the Bargaining said in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted—and young Master Snotlout, too—charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced—"

"I'm not buying today, Borgin," Spitelout interrupted. "I am _selling_."

The smile faded slightly from Borgin's face. "Selling?"

Spitelout the Stern pulled a roll of parchment from inside his trouser pocket and unraveled it for Borgin to read. "I have a few, ah, items at home that might embarrass me. If the Ministry were to call…"

Borgin looked down at the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Spitelout’s lips curled into a sneer.

"I have not been visited yet; the name Jorgenson still commands a certain respect. But the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. I've heard rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act—no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Bjartr the Tinkering is behind it."

"His daughter is good-looking, though,"  Snotlout said, looking at the other times on display.

"As that may very well be, I cannot allow the two of you to form a relationship unless she admits that her family is a disgrace to the name of Vikings."

Hiccup felt a hot surge of rage course through him. He was very tempted to jump out of his hiding place and attack the Jorgensons…

Spitelout then turned back to Borgin.

"As you can see, a certain few of these poisons might make it _appear_ —"

"I understand, sir, of course," Borgin said. "Let me see…"

"Can I have _that?_ " Snotlout interrupted, pointing at the withered hand on it cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" Borgin said, abandoning Spitelout's list and scurrying over to Snotlout. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my boy will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," Spitelout hissed coldly, and Borgin said quickly, "No offence, sir, no offence meant—"  

"Though if his school marks don't pick up," Spitelout added, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for."

"It's not my fault," Snotlout retorted. "The teachers, apart from Asketill, all have favorites, that Ragnar Wicket—"

"No Jorgenson has ever— _ever_ —let a Viking or Valkyrie with no magical parents beat them in anything!" Spitelout said furiously. "Don't you _dare_ be the first."

Snotlout now looked frightened, and Hiccup couldn’t help but enjoy the look on his face.

"It's the same all over," Borgin said, in his oily voice. "Viking blood is counting for less everywhere—"

"Not with me," Spitelout said, his eyes flaring.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," Borgin said with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," Spitelout said shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today."

They started to haggle. Hiccup watched nervously as Snotlout drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the object for sale. He paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking. The card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals; _Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed—has claimed the lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date_.

Snotlout turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward…he stretched out his hand for the handle…

"Done!" Spitelout yelled at the counter. "Come, Snotlout!"

Hiccup wiped his forehead on his sleeve as Snotlout turned away.

"I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods, Borgin."

"Of course, of course…"

But the moment the door had closed, Borgin dropped his oily manner.

"If the stories are true, _Spitelout the Stern_ , you haven't even sold me half of what's hidden in your _manor_ …"

Muttering darkly, Borgin disappeared into a back room. Hiccup waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, he slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases and out of the shop door.

He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the dark magic. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads, and two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking Vikings were watching him from the shadows of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Hiccup set off, hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of there.

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him he was in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as Hiccup had never heard of such a place. He remembered that he spoke a little too fast in the Hofferson's fire.

"Not lost, are you my dear?" a voice in his ear purred, making him jump.

An aged Valkyrie stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Hiccup backed away.

"I'm fine, thanks," he said. "I'm just—"

"HICCUP?! What d’yeh think yer doin' down there?"

Hiccup’s heart leapt. So did the Valkyrie; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Gobber the Belch, Berk's Forge Master, came striding towards them, clear-blue eyes flashing over his long, blond, rope-like moustache.

"Gobber, thank the gods!" Hiccup croaked in relief. "I was lost…Floo powder…"

Gobber seized Hiccup by the scruff of his neck and pulled him away from the Valkyrie, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her enraged shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Hiccup saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance: Gringotts bank. Gobber had steered him right into Diagon Alley.

"Yer a mess!" Gobber said gruffly, brushing soot off Hiccup with his one good hand; Gobber had lost both an arm and a leg during the Viking War against Drago Bludvist. He brushed Hiccup so hard that he almost fell into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno—dodgy place, Hiccup—don' want no-one to see yeh down there, lad. People will think yer up to no good."

"I realized _that_ ," Hiccup said, ducking as Gobber made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost—wait a minute, what were you doing down there, anyway?"

" _I_ was lookin' fer some leather," Gobber growled. "I'm runnin' short. Yer not on yer own, are yeh?"

"I'm staying with the Hoffersons, but we got separated," Hiccup explained. "I've got to go and find them…"

They set off together down the street.

"So, how is Toothless?" Hiccup asked, as he jogged alongside Gobber. He had to take three steps to every stride of Gobber’s enormous boot and pegged leg.

"Oh, fine," Gobber said with a little chuckle. "But he misses yeh a lot. I'm betting he'll run into yeh and lick all over yeh the moment he sees yeh."

"I'll remember to buy some waterproof clothing then," Hiccup said.

"By the way, Hiccup. How come yeh never wrote back to me?" Gobber asked. Hiccup explained all about Dobby and the Dalvors.

"Ruddy Muggles," Gobber growled. "I swear, if I'd have known—"

"Hiccup, Hiccup! Over here!"

Hiccup looked up and saw Ragnar Wicket standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. He ran down to meet them.

"What happened to you? Hello, Gobber…Oh it's _great_ to see you two again…are you coming into Gringotts, Hiccup?"

"As soon as I've found the Hoffersons," Hiccup said.

"Yeh won't have long to wait," Gobber told him with a grin.

Hiccup and Ragnar looked around; sprinting up the crowded street were Astrid, Double, Trouble, Askeladden and Mr Hofferson. Astrid was the first to arrive and immediately gave him a big hug, but she just as quickly pulled away and punched him hard on the shoulder.

"That's for scaring me," she said, looking cross.

"I didn’t mean to scare you," Hiccup said.

"Hiccup," Mr Hofferson panted. "We _hoped_ you'd only gone one fireplace too far…" He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Ingrid’s been frantic—she's coming now."

"Where did you end up anyway?" Astrid asked.

"Knockturn Alley," Gobber said grimly.

_"Brilliant!"_ Double and Trouble said together.

"We've never been allowed in," Astrid explained.

"I should ruddy well think not," Gobber growled.

Mrs. Hofferson now came galloping into view, her satchel swinging wildly in one hand. Egill was running beside her, trying to keep up.

"Oh Hiccup—oh, my poor, poor dear—you could have been anywhere—"

Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her satchel and began sweeping off the soot Gobber hadn't managed to beat away.

"Well, got to be off," Gobber said, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Hofferson ("Knockturn Alley! Oh, if you hadn't found him, Gobber!")"See yeh at Berk!" And he hobbled away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in a packed street.

"Guess what happened in Borgin and Burkes?" Hiccup asked Astrid and Ragnar as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Snotlout and his father came in."

"Did Spitelout buy anything?" Mr Hofferson asked sharply behind them.

"No, but he _was_ selling."

"So he's worried," Mr Hofferson said with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Spitelout the Stern for something…"

"You be careful, Bjartr," Mrs. Hofferson said sharply, as they were ushered into the bank by a bowing Dwarf at the door. "The Jorgenson clan is nothing but trouble; don't go biting off more than you can chew."

Before Mr Hofferson could say anything, Ragnar's mother walked up to them. She was a tall, pretty woman with ash-black hair and molten gold eyes. Her face was kind, if not tired, and she seemed to be waiting for Ragnar to introduce her.

"Oh, guys this is my mum. Mum, these are the friends I've told you about," Ragnar said, gesturing to Hiccup and Astrid.

Ms. Wicket walked up to them, smiling politely. "It's very nice meeting you two," she said, shaking their hands. "Ragnar has told me all about you."

Mr Hofferson looked as if Snoggletog had just arrived early.

"But you're a _Muggle!_ " he said delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're exchanging Muggle money. Ingrid, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Ms. Wicket’s hand.

Ms. Wicket took a nervous step back at Mr Hofferson's outburst.

"Bjartr, dear, calm yourself," Mrs. Hofferson said. She then gave Ms. Wicket an apologetic look. "You must forgive my husband; he tends to get excited about every little Muggle thing. I'm Ingrid Hofferson, Astrid's mother."

Ms. Wicket then shook Mrs. Hofferson's hand and said, "I'm Kelda Wicket."

"We’ll talk later, but right now we need to get some money from our vaults."

"We'll meet you back here," Astrid said to Ragnar, as the Hoffersons and Hiccup were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts dwarf.

The vaults were reached by means of small dwarf-driven carts that sped along miniature train-tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Hiccup enjoyed the break-neck journey down to the Hoffersons' vault—it reminded him of flying on Toothless' back, something he very much missed—but once he reached their vault, the feeling disappeared. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Hofferson felt right into the corners before sighing and sweeping the whole lot into her satchel.

Hiccup felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block as much of the contents from view as he could while he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather pouch.

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Askeladden muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Double and Trouble had spotted their friend from Berk, Lock Jordson. Mrs. Hofferson and Egill were going to a second-hand clothes shop. Mr Hofferson was insisting on taking Ms. Wicket off to the Dragon’s Flame for a drink.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your Academy books," Mrs. Hofferson said, setting off with Egill. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley! She shouted at the twins' retreating backs.

Hiccup then looked at Astrid. "How come your mum doesn't have a title?" he asked.

"Oh, she does," Astrid said, smirking. "She just doesn't use it in mixed company."

"What is it?" Ragnar asked curiously.

Astrid looked around to make sure that no one could hear them, then leaned forward and whispered, "Ingrid the Ill-tempered."

On that note, Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver and bronze jangling cheerfully in Hiccup's pocket was clamoring to be spent, so he bought three large strawberry and peanut butter ice-creams which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Astrid gazed longingly at a full set of Holyhead Harpies Dragon Racing gear in the windows of "Dealing Dragon Racing Supplies" until Ragnar dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Viking Joke Shop, they met Double, Trouble and Lock Jordson, who were stocking up on "Filibuster the Fabulous' Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks", and in a tiny junk shop full of cracked crystal eyes, wonky brass and old capes covered in potion stains they found Askeladden, deeply immersed in a small and very boring book called _Prefects Who Gained Power._

" _A Study of Berk prefects and their later careers,_ " Astrid read aloud off the back cover "That sounds absolutely _fascinating…"_

"Go away," Askeladden snapped.

"Course, he's very ambitious, Askeladden, he's got it all planned out…he wants to become the Chief…" Astrid told Hiccup and Ragnar in an undertone, as they left Askeladden to his reading.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

_FLASHBURN THE FLASHMASTER_

_Will be signing copies of his autobiography_

_MAGICAL ME_

_Today 12.30-4.30pm_

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of Valkyries around Mrs. Hofferson's age. A harassed-looking Viking stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, ladies, please…don't push, there…mind the books, now…"

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar squeezed inside. A long queue wound right to the back of the shop, where Flashburn the Flashmaster was signing his books. They grabbed a copy of _Duel with a Dark-elf,_ and sneaked up the line to where the rest of Hoffersons were standing with Ms. Wicket.

"Oh, there you are, good," Mrs. Hofferson said. She sounded breathless, and she kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute…"

Flashburn the Flashmaster came slowly into view, seared at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Flashburn was wearing forget-me-not blue clothes which matched his eyes exactly; his grand Viking helmet was set a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable looking man was dancing around, taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of dull purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ragnar, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the _Daily Prophet._ "

"Like I care," Ragnar grumbled, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Flashburn apparently heard him. He looked up. He saw Ragnar—and then he saw Hiccup. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It _can't_ be Hiccup Haddock?"

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Flashburn dived forwards, seized Hiccup's arm and pulled him to the front. Astrid was too stunned to stop him. The crowd burst into applause. Hiccup's face burned as Flashburn shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Hoffersons.

"Nice big smile, Hiccup," Flashburn instructed through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are _certainly_ worth the front page."

When he finally let go of Hiccup's hand, Hiccup could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Hoffersons, but Flashburn threw an arm around his shoulders and clasped him tightly to his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Hiccup here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—" the crowd applauded again, "—he had _no idea,_ " Flashburn continued, giving Hiccup a little shake, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my books, _Magical Me._ He and his academy fellows will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have pleasure and pride in announcing that this September; I will be taking up the post of Combat Art teacher at Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Hiccup found himself being presented with the entire works of Flashburn the Flashmaster. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Egill was standing next to his new cauldron.

Egill was now wearing a burning orange shirt that had been repeatedly patched, and his dark grey trousers were torn in several places. His fur coat looked as if moths had being living in it at some point. Astrid stood beside him, blinking repeatedly to get the remnants of smoke out of her eyes.

"You have these, Astrid," Hiccup mumbled to her, tipping the books into her arms. "I'll buy my own—"

"What that blowhard sees is beyond me," a voice Hiccup had no trouble recognizing drawled. He straightened up and found himself face to face with Snotlout Jorgenson, who was wearing his usual sneer.

"After all, a true Viking is standing right here," Snotlout said. "Though I guess when someone is as _famous_ as you can't even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page."

"It's not like he asked for it!" Egill exclaimed. It was the first time he had spoken in front of Hiccup. He was glaring at Snotlout.

"What are you, the head of his fan club?" Snotlout sneered. Egill was turning red as Astrid turned slightly to see what was going on.

The moment Snotlout saw Astrid, he straightened his hair and said, "Hello there, darling. What brings you to a place like this?"

"What do you think I'm doing in a bookshop," Astrid said, rolling her eyes, "buying a dress?"

"Oh, I hope so," Snotlout said dreamily. "Though getting those books will make your family go hungry for a month. I could buy them for you if you go out on a date with me."

Astrid went as red as Egill. She dropped her books into the cauldron and started to charge at Snotlout, but Hiccup grabbed ahold of her arms and tried to pull her back.

"Astrid!" Mr Hofferson called, struggling over with Double and Trouble. "What are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well—Bjartr the Tinkering."

It was Spitelout the Stern. He stood with his hand on Snotlout's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Spitelout," Mr Hofferson said, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Spitelout said. "All those raids…I imagine they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Egill’s cauldron and extracted, from amidst the glossy Flashburn books, a very old, very battered copy of _a Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration._

"Obviously not," he scoffed. "If you're going to be a disgrace to the name of Viking, they should at least pay you well for it."

Mr Hofferson flushed darker than either Astrid or Egill.

"You and I have very different ideas of what disgraces the name of Vikings, Spitelout," he said.

"Clearly," Spitelout said, his pale eyes straying to Ms. Wicket, who was glaring at him. "The company you keep, Hofferson…and I thought after what happened to Fearless Finn you couldn't possibly sink any lower." He then glanced at Astrid, still struggling in Hiccup’s arms, and gave her a pitying look. "Your daughter is a beauty; such a shame that she was born into a family with no Viking pride—"

There was a thud of metal as Egill’s cauldron went flying; Mr Hofferson had thrown himself at Spitelout, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Astrid, Double and Trouble; Mrs. Hofferson was shrieking, "No, Bjartr, _no_!" the crowd stampeded backwards, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please—please!" the assistant cried and then, louder than all, "Break it up, there, gents, break it up—"

Gobber was wading towards them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled apart Mr Hofferson with his good hand and Spitelout with his icy hook. Mr Hofferson had a cut lip and Spitelout had been hit in the eye by an _encyclopedia of Toadstools._ He was still holding Egill’s old transfiguration book. He thrust it at him, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, boy—take your book—it's the best your _father_ can give you—"

Removing himself from Gobber's icy hook he beckoned to Snotlout and swept from the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Bjartr," Gobber said, almost lifting Mr Hofferson off his feet as he straightened his cape. "Rotten to the core, the whole clan, everyone knows that. No Jorgenson is worth listening' ter. Bad blood, that's what it is. Come on now, let's get outta here."

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Gobber's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, Ms. Wicket and Mrs. Hofferson beside themselves with fury.

"I take it that was the Jorgenson boy you told me about," Ms. Wicket said, looking at her son, who only nodded. "If he claims to represent Viking kind, I'm happy I'm a Muggle."

"I don't blame you," Mr Hofferson growled.

"That’s such a _fine_ example to set for your children… _brawling_ in public…" Mrs. Hofferson said, " _What_ Flashburn the Flashmaster must've thought…"

"He was pleased," Double said. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the _Daily Prophet_ if he'd be able to work the fight into his report—said it was all publicity."

But it was a subdued group who headed back to the fireplace in the Dragon’s Flame, where Hiccup, the Hoffersons and all their shopping would be travelling back to The Burrow using Floo powder. They said goodbye to Ragnar and his mother, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle Street on the other side. Mr Hofferson started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Hofferson's face.

Hiccup helped to himself to Floo powder and made sure to speak clearly this time. It was definitely wasn't his favorite way to travel.

* * *

***laughs***

**Favorite line of chapter: "Hiccup wasn't having a very enjoyable trip."**

**(I think that's putting it mildly, sweetie)**

**Next update will be on schedule, I promise.**


	5. The Whomping Willow

**Happy belated Easter, everybody!**

**My egg basket (because yes, I still go on easter egg hunts) was big and shallow. I almost immediately named it Snotlout.**

**On with the chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter Five: The Whomping Willow_

* * *

The end of the summer holidays came far too quickly for Hiccup's liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Berk, sure, but his month at The Burrow had been the happiest time of his life. It was difficult not to feel a bit jealous of Astrid when he thought of the Dalvors, and the sort of welcome he could expect next time he turned up at Privet Drive.

On their last evening, Mrs. Hofferson conjured up a sumptuous dinner which included all of Hiccup's favorite things, ending with a mouth-watering treacle pudding. Double and Trouble rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and gold stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.

It took a long time to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Hofferson dashed about in a bad mood, looking for spare socks and quills; People kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast clutched in their hands; and Mr Hofferson nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Egill’s trunk to the car.

Hiccup thought it would be impossible for eight people, six large trunks, three Terrible Terrors and a rat to fit in the small Ford Anglia. He had reckoned, of course, without the special features which Mr Hofferson had added.

"Not a word to Ingrid, lad, if you don’t mind," he whispered to Hiccup as he opened the boot and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that trunks fitted easily. "She’d be very displeased if she knew."

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Hofferson glanced into the back seat, where Hiccup, Astrid, Double, Trouble and Askeladden were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles  _ do _ know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Egill got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a leather park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Astrid nodded, looking as though she was trying not to laugh. "It’s very impressive."

Mr Hofferson started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Hiccup turning back for a last look at the house. He barely had time to wonder when he'd see it again when they were back: Trouble had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Double could run in for his saddle. They had almost reached the motorway when Egill remembered that he'd left his diary. By the time he had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.

Mr Hofferson glanced at his watch and then at his wife.

"Ingrid, dear—"

_ "No, _ Bjartr."

"No one would see. This little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed—that'd get us up in the air—then we fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser—"

"I said  _ no _ , Bjartr, not in broad daylight."

They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr Hofferson dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station.

Hiccup had caught the Berk Express the previous year. The tricky bit was getting onto the platform nine and three quarters, which wasn't visible to Muggle eye. What you had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed you vanishing.

"Askeladden, you go first," Mrs. Hofferson said, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier.

Askeladden strode briskly forwards and vanished. Mr Hofferson went next, and Double and Trouble followed.

"I'll take Egill and you two come right after us," Mrs. Hofferson told Hiccup and Astrid, grabbing Egill’s hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

"Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Astrid said to Hiccup.

Hiccup made sure that Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter’s cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley about to face the barrier. He felt perfectly confident; this wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as using Floo powder. Both of them bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully towards the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run—

CRASH.

Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backwards; Astrid's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Hiccup was knocked off his feet, and the dragons’ cage bounced onto the shiny floor and the dragons rolled away, shrieking indignantly; people all around them stared, and a guard nearby yelled, "What in the name of Thor d'you think you're doing?"

"Lost control of the trolley," Hiccup gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Astrid rushed to pick up Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter, who were causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.

"Why can't we get through?" Hiccup hissed to Astrid.

"I don't know—"

Astrid looked around wildly. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

"We're going to miss the train," Astrid whispered, looking worried. "I don't understand why the gateways sealed itself…"

Hiccup looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds…nine seconds…

He wheeled his trolley forward cautiously, until it was right against the barrier, and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid.

Three seconds…two seconds…one second…

"The train leaves exactly at eleven o'clock," Hiccup said, feeling slightly crestfallen, "we’ve missed it."

Astrid clutched the cage with whitened knuckles. "If we can't get through, then maybe Mum and Dad can't get back to us…What are we going to do? Have you got any Muggle money?"

"You're joking, right?" Hiccup asked, giving a humorless laugh. "The Dalvors haven't given me any pocket money in the last six years."

Astrid pressed her ear to the cold barrier.

"Can't hear a thing," she said tensely. "What're we going to do? I don't know how long it'll take Mum and Dad to get back to us.

They looked around. People were still watching them, mainly because of Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter's continuing roaring. Hiccup wasn't sure what they were seeing, but from the looks on their faces it was probably very strange.

"We're attracting too much attention," Hiccup said. "I think it's best if we wait at the car and—"

"Hiccup!" Astrid exclaimed, her eyes gleaming. "That’s it!  _ The car!" _

"What about it?"

"We can fly the car to Berk!"

"But I thought—"

"We're stuck, right? And we've got to get to the academy, right? And even under-age Vikings and Valkyries are allowed to use magic if it's a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of Whatever…"

Hiccup wasn't sure if this was a wise idea, but Astrid seemed sure, and at this point he was getting desperate.

"Can you fly it?"

"The twins made sure I knew how," Astrid replied, wheeling her trolley around to face the exit. "C'mon, if we hurry we'll be able to follow the Berk Express."

And they marched off through the crowd of curious Muggles, out of the station and back into the side road where the old Ford Anglia was parked.

Astrid opened the cavernous boot by using her axe as a lever. They heaved their trunks back in, put Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter on the back seat and got into the front.

"Check no one's watching," Astrid said, starting the ignition with a tap of her crystal eye. Hiccup stuck his head out of the window: traffic was rumbling along the main road ahead, but their street was empty.

"Okay," he said.

Astrid pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. The car around them vanished—and so did they. Hiccup could feel the seat vibrating beneath him, hear the engine and feel his hands on his knees, but for all he could see, he had become a pair of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars.

"This is weird," he said, looking at his now invisible hand.

"Get weirded out later, we need to go," Astrid's voice said from his right.

The ground and the dirty building on either side fell away, dropping out of sight as the car rose; in seconds, the whole of London lay, smoky and glittering, below them.

It wasn't until they had almost reached the countryside when a popping noise happened, and the car, Hiccup and Astrid reappeared.

"Uh-oh," Astrid said, jabbing at the Invisibility Booster. "It's faulty—"

She pummeled the button. The car vanished. Then it flickered back again.

"Godsdammit!" Astrid cursed.

"Let's try and find the train, and then we can disappear in the clouds," Hiccup said.

Astrid nodded. They flew downwards and soon they found the train tracks. They then began to follow them, hoping the train wasn't too far ahead of them.

"Now all we need to do is find the train," Hiccup said.

"It can't be far behind," Astrid said.

Just then they heard a familiar train whistle, one that could only belong to the Berk Express.

"Do you hear that?" Hiccup asked excitedly.

"We must be getting close," Astrid said, looking relieved.

The whistling was getting louder, but they couldn’t see the train. Hiccup had a sudden, terrifying realization, and glanced at Astrid, who seemed to have had the same thought. They turned around and saw the scarlet train heading straight towards them.

They both screamed, and Astrid pulled up, only narrowly missing the train. They didn't slow down until they were about a hundred feet in the air.

"Well…" Hiccup said finally, "I think we found the train."

"You think?" Astrid snapped, her face almost deathly pale. She then peered back down at the Berk Express; from their height, it looked like a scarlet snake.

"It's heading due north," Astrid said, checking the compass on the dashboard. "Okay, we'll just have to check on it every half an hour or so. Hold on…" And they shot up through the clouds. A minute later, they burst out into a blaze of sunlight.

Hiccup was very familiar with the sight before him; Toothless had flown this high many times before. Still, the novelty hadn’t worn off. He loved being so close to the clouds, being touched by the sun’s rays, and looking out at an endless blue sky.

"It’s amazing," Astrid breathed, looking around with an almost childlike wonder.

"Yeah, it sure is," Hiccup agreed, unable to look away from her.

Astrid didn’t have a dragon yet, and though he’d been tempted many a time, Hiccup had never tried to bring her along on a flight with Toothless. To her, this was a whole new world, vast and in desperate need of taking in. Luckily, she retained enough focus to be able to continue driving.

As they flew over the fluffy clouds, a thought entered into Hiccup’s head. It was something that had been troubling him for a while, but he had never said anything because he was worried about how Astrid would react.

"Who's Fearless Finn?" Hiccup asked.

Astrid drew in a sharp breath, looking as though she wanted to knock out his teeth. Seeing this made him nervous and he added quickly, "You don't have to tell me if you don’t want to—"

"No, it's alright," Astrid said with a sigh. "He was my uncle. They say he was so brave, nothing ever scared him. But he came face to face with a Flightmare during the Viking War. He froze, and…well, I think you can figure out the rest."

He could. "Oh gods, that’s horrible."

Astrid nodded, a bitter look on her face. "The Flightmare paralyzed him, of course, but people like the Jorgensons like to claim he froze with fright. "Fearful Finn" is what they call him now. It didn’t exactly do wonders for our already poor reputation."

After that, Hiccup decided it would be best to remain quiet and let Astrid continue to drive.

They made regular checks on the train as they flew farther and farther north, each dip beneath the clouds showing them a different view. London was soon far behind them, replaced by neat green fields that gave way in turn to wide, purplish moors, a great city alive with cars like multicolored ants, villages with tiny toy buildings.

Soon the sky became dark, and the stars began to appear. As beautiful as it was, Hiccup hoped that they would reach Berk soon, because the car had begun to whine. 

"It's probably just tired," Astrid assured him, though she did look nervous. "I mean, it's never flown this far before. We’ll be fine. I’m sure. Don’t worry."

The whining was getting increasingly louder, but when they next flew back beneath the clouds they saw a landmark they knew very well.

_ "There!" _ Hiccup shouted, making Astrid and the dragons jump. "Straight ahead!"

Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on a small island surrounded by a huge mountain stood a fortress and carved in the mountain was a castle. They had reached the island of Berk. Suddenly Hiccup felt a burning sensation on his chest. He pulled his tunic away from his chest to see the image of a Monstrous Nightmare, the symbol of Gryffindor, appearing over his heart.

Hiccup smiled. He was finally home…

But the car had begun to shudder, and was rapidly losing speed.

"Come on," Astrid hissed, shaking the steering wheel violently, "we’re nearly there, don’t stop now—"

The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from under the bonnet. Hiccup found himself gripping the edge of his seat very hard as they flew towards the lake.

The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of his window, Hiccup saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile below. Astrid's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The car wobbled again.

"Come  _ on!" _ Astrid yelled.

They were over the lake…the Grand Mountain was right ahead…Astrid put her foot down.

There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died completely.

"Uh-oh," Astrid said into the silence.

The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, heading straight for the Grand Mountain.

Astrid screamed, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the mountain by mere inches as the car turned arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, over Mildew the Unpleasant's house and over the vegetable patch, losing height all the time.

Astrid let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled her crystal eye out.

"STOP, STOP!" she yelled, slamming the dashboard and the windscreen, but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up towards them…

"LOOK OUT!" Hiccup bellowed, pulling her away from the steering wheel and out of harm’s way. He then lunged for it, but he was too late.

CRUNCH.

With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from under the crumpled bonnet; Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter were roaring in terror, Hiccup was rubbing the large lump he got when he had hit the windscreen, and to his right, Astrid let out a low despairing groan.

"Are you okay?" Hiccup asked urgently.

"My crystal eye," Astrid said, in a slightly shaky voice.  _ "Look at my crystal eye…" _

There was a crack running all the way through it, a crack about as thick as Astrid’s pointer finger. The color seemed to have faded slightly.

Hiccup opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the academy, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit his side of the car with all the force of a charging Rumblehorn; the impact sent him lurching sideways into Astrid, pinning her against the door. Now under normal circumstances he would have loved being this close to her, not that he would have dared to admit it, but an equally heavy blow then hit the roof.

"What's happening?" Astrid asked.

"I don't know," Hiccup said, trying to get off of her.

Then they gasped, staring through the windscreen as a branch as thick as python smashed into it. The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled bought were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.

"Aaargh!" Astrid yelled, as another twisted limb then punched a large dent into her door; the windscreen was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving in—

"Run for it!" Hiccup shouted.

Astrid then threw her full weight against her door, but the moment she stepped out she was knocked backwards into Hiccup's lap by a vicious upper cut from another branch.

"Da, da, da, we're dead," Hiccup moaned as the ceiling sagged. Instinctively, he pulled Astrid closer, trying in vain to spare her from the worst of the attack, but all of a sudden the floor of the car began vibrating—the engine had re-started.

_ "Reverse!" _ Astrid screamed, and the car shot backwards. The tree was still trying to hit them; they could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach.

"That," Astrid panted, "Was close. Well done, car."

The car, however, had reached the end if its tether. With a sharp clunk, the door flew open and Hiccup felt the seat tip sideways: next thing he knew, he and Astrid were tumbling onto the damp ground, limbs entangled and faces red with embarrassment. Loud thuds told Hiccup that the car was ejecting their luggage from the boot; Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter's cage flew through the air and burst open; they rose out of it with loud, angry roars and curses, and sped off towards the mountain without a backwards look. Then, dented, scratched and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily.

"Come back!" Astrid yelled after it, scrambling to remove herself from Hiccup. "Dad's going to kill me!"

But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust.

"We have the worst luck, don’t we?" Hiccup asked bitterly, as Astrid bent down to pick up Scabbard the rat. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we just  _ had _ to get one that hits back."

He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly.

"Come on," Astrid said wearily, "We’d better get up to the academy…"

It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold and bruised, still blushing from the way they had fallen out of the car, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, towards the great oak front doors.

"I think the feast's already started," Astrid said, dropping her trunk at the foot of the front steps and quietly opening the door a crack to look in the Great Hall. "Hey, Hiccup—come and look—it's the Sorting!"

Hiccup hurried over, and together he and Astrid peered in at the Great Hall.

Innumerable torches were hovering in mid-air over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. At the foot of the tables were four large statues, each one in different colors. Also there were two huge statues behind the High Table, where all the teachers sat. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling which always mirrored the sky outside sparkled with stars.

Through the sea of Viking helmets, Hiccup saw a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall. Egill was amongst them, easily visible because of his vivid Hofferson hair. Meanwhile, Phlegma the Fierce, an angry look Valkyrie and his godmother, was placing the famous Sorting Helmet of Valhallarama on a stool before the newcomers.

Every year, this aged old helmet, dented, cracked and dirty, sorted new students into four Berk houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin). Hiccup well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waited, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in his ear. For a few horrible seconds he had feared that the hat was going to put him in Slytherin, the house which had turned out more evil Vikings and Valkyries than any other—but he had ended up in Gryffindor, along with Astrid and Ragnar and the rest of the Hoffersons. Last term, Hiccup, Ragnar, and Astrid had helped Gryffindor win the House Championship, beating Slytherin for the first time in seven years.

A very small, dark-haired boy had been called forward to place the helmet on his head. Hiccup's eyes wandered past him to where Alvis the Noble, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard was shining brightly in the torchlight. Several seats along, Hiccup saw Flashburn the Flashmaster, dressed in aquamarine. And there at the end was Gobber the Belch, drinking from his icy tankard.

"Hang on…" Hiccup muttered to Astrid. "There's an empty chair at the staff table…Where's Asketill?"

Asketill the Harsh was Hiccup's least favorite teacher. Hiccup also happened to Asketill's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic and disliked by everyone except the students from his own house, (Slytherin), Asketill taught Potions, even though what he truly wanted to teach was Combat Arts.

"Maybe he's ill!" Astrid said hopefully.

"Maybe he's  _ left," _ Hiccup said, "because he missed out on the Combat Arts job  _ again!  _ Hiring someone like Flashburn would definitely be the last straw for me."

"Or he might have been  _ sacked! _ " Astrid said enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him—"

At that moment Hiccup felt an uneasy feeling from behind him and once he looked at Astrid, who gave him the same look she had given him when they were nearly run over by the Berk Express. 

"He's standing right behind us, isn't he?"

They turned around and sure enough, there stood Asketill, his dark cape rippling through the cold breeze. He was a thin, muscular man with sallow skin, a hooked nose and greasy, shoulder-length black hair that was underneath a very grim-looking helmet. At this moment he was smiling in a way that told Hiccup and Astrid they were in very deep trouble.

"Follow me," Asketill barked.

Not daring to even look at each other, Hiccup and Astrid followed Asketill back down to the village which was lit up by two huge torches in the plaza. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Asketill led them away from the warmth and light, down a stone staircase that led to a gloomy looking house.

"In!" he said, opening the door and pointing.

They entered Asketill’s house, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Hiccup didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Asketill closed the door and turned to look at them.

"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Hiccup Haddock and his darling little girlfriend. Wanted to arrive with a  _ bang _ , did we?"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Hiccup said.

"I’m not his girlfriend!" Astrid said, at the exact same time as Hiccup.

"Silence!" Asketill growled.

"The barrier at King's Cross, it—"

"I said silence!" Asketill yelled. "What have you done with the car?"

Astrid looked uneasy. This wasn't the first time Asketill had given Hiccup the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he understood, as Asketill unrolled today's issue of the  _ Evening Prophet _ .

"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud. "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower…at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Halla Baylisson, while hanging out her washing…Mr Alf Fortson, of Peebles, reported to police…six or seven Muggles in all. I believe  _ your _ father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?" He said, looking at Astrid and smiling even more nastily. "Dear, dear…his own precious daughter…"

Hiccup felt as though he'd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. If anyone found out Mr Hofferson had bewitched the car…Gods, he hadn't thought of that…

"I noticed, in my search, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow. Which was planted even before you were born," Asketill went on.

"Personally I think that tree did more damage to  _ us," _ Astrid muttered. Hiccup jabbed her in the gut, gaining a wince, but too late.

_ "Silence!" _ Asketill snapped again. "I assure you that if you were in Slytherin and your fate rested with me, the  _ both _ of you would be on the train home,  _ tonight. _ As it is—"

"They are not," a calm voice behind them said.

They turned around and saw that both Alvis the Noble and Phlegma the Fierce had just entered the room. Both of them were looking grave.

Asketill stared at them, a look of fury on his face.

"Headmaster, these two have broken the Decree of Under-age Magic, and as such they must be—"

"Before we  _ punish _ them, Asketill, I would like to hear their reason behind it," Alvis said calmly. "And need I remind you that, as head of Gryffindor house, it is  _ Phlegma _ who decides on their punishment?"

Astrid launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through. She explained everything truthfully, excluding only the fact that her father owned the bewitched car. She made it sound as though they had just happened to find a flying car parked outside the station. Hiccup knew Alvis would see through this at once, but thankfully Alvis asked no questions about the car.

"…so we had no choice, we couldn't get on the train."

"Why didn't you send us a letter by Terrible Terror?" Asketill asked, looking coldly to Hiccup. "I believe  _ you _ have a Terrible Terror."

"I-I didn't think—"

"That," Asketill said, "is obvious."

"It was my fault, sir," Astrid said, looking at Alvis desperately,  _ "I _ came up with the idea, it was me, Hiccup didn't have anything to do with it—"

"No, I should have talked her out of it," Hiccup said quickly. Astrid shot him a glare, but he wouldn’t let her take the fall. It was his fault as much as it was hers. "I knew better, I shouldn’t have gone along with it—"

"No, you both had a hand in this," Alvis said, but there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. "Though I must admit, I find your loyalty to one another quite endearing. There are fully-grown Vikings and Valkyries who lack a bond like that."

"We'll go and get our stuff then," Astrid said in a hopeless sort of voice.

"What are you talking about?" Phlegma asked.

"Well, you're going to expel us, aren't you?" Astrid asked, looking confused.

Hiccup looked quickly at Alvis.

"Not today, Miss Hofferson," Alvis said. "Clearly, you understand what you did was wrong. But I still must impress upon both of you the seriousness of this matter. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you. Do you understand?"

Hiccup and Astrid looked at each other, nodded, and with almost perfect unison they said "Yes Sir, we understand."

"Very good."

Asketill looked as though Snoggletog had just been cancelled. He cleared his throat and was about to speak, but Alvis cut across him.

"I must go back to the feast, Phlegma; I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Asketill, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample."

Asketill shot a look of pure venom at Hiccup and Astrid as he allowed himself to be swept out of his house, leaving them alone with Phlegma, who was eying them like a hungry dragon.

"Miss Hofferson, you’re bleeding."

Surprised, Hiccup looked at Astrid again. Sure enough, there was a thin line of blood dripping down from her hairline. He wondered how he had failed to notice it before.

"Not a lot," Astrid said, hastily wiping at the wound, and only really succeeding at smearing the blood around. She looked nervously at Phlegma and added, "Ma'am, I wanted to watch my little brother being Sorted—"

"I’m afraid the Sorting Ceremony is already over," Phlegma said. "Your younger brother is also in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good," Astrid said.

"And speaking of Gryffindor—" Phlegma said sharply, but Hiccup cut in: "Ma'am, when we took the car, term hadn't started, so—so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it, should it?" he finished, watching her anxiously.

Phlegma gave him a perplexed look, but he was sure she had almost smiled. Her mouth didn't look as furious as it normally did, at least.

"I will not take any points from Gryffindor," she said, and Hiccup's heart lightened considerably. "But you will both get a detention."

Hiccup had expected as much. As for Alvis writing to the Dalvors, that was nothing; he knew perfectly well that they'd just be disappointed the Whomping Willow hadn't squashed him flat.

"But why did the barrier close on us, ma'am?" Astrid asked.

"I don't know, but we'll look into it, don’t you worry."

Phlegma brought out her axe and pointed it at Asketill’s desk. A large tray of sandwiches, a handful of golden napkins, two silver goblets and a jug of cool yak milk appeared with a pop.

"You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory," she said. "I must also return to the feast."

When the door had closed behind her, both Hiccup and Astrid took a long sigh of relief.

"That was a close one," Hiccup said, grabbing a sandwich.

"No kidding," Astrid agreed, taking one too.

"Can you believe our luck, though?" she said thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. "Double and Trouble must've flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw  _ them." _ she swallowed and took another huge bite.  _ "Why _ couldn't we get through the barrier?"

Hiccup shrugged. "We'll have to watch our step from now on, though," he said, taking a grateful swing of yak milk. "Wish we could've gone up to the feast…"

"She didn't want us showing off," Astrid said sagely. "She didn't want people to think that it's clever, arriving by flying car."

There was still blood on her forehead, and before he could stop himself, Hiccup grabbed one of the napkins and began to wipe it off.

Astrid stiffened under his touch, her face turning a bright shade of pink. "W-what the Helheim are you doing?"

"You, uh, you still had a bit of blood on your face," Hiccup said, quickly pulling away, "it was distracting me…"

Blushing heavily, he dropped the napkin and focused on taking another sandwich, pointedly avoiding Astrid’s gaze.

There was an awkward silence following his explanation. When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept re-filling itself), they rose and left the frigid house. Still silent, they walked back into the mountain, treading the familiar path to the Gryffindor common room. The fort was quiet; it seemed that the feast was long over. They walked past muttering portraits and stiff stone statues, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor common room was hidden, behind a painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked, as they approached.

"Uh—" Hiccup said, glancing uneasily at Astrid.

They didn't know the new password, not having met with a Gryffindor prefect yet, but help came almost immediately; they heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Ragnar dashing towards them.

_ "There _ you are! Where have you  _ been? _ I’ve been hearing the most  _ ridiculous _ rumors—someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying  _ car." _

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Hiccup assured him.

"You're not saying that you  _ did _ fly a car all the way over here?" Ragnar said, giving them a stunned look. "You two sure know how to make an entrance. But how on Midgard did you—"

"We'll tell you all about it in the morning," Astrid said impatiently. "Right now we just want to sleep."

"The password is 'Deadly Nadder'," Ragnar said, still looking very surprised.

The portrait of the fat Valkyrie swung open, and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole Gryffindor house was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Hiccup and Astrid inside, leaving Ragnar to scramble in after them.

"Brilliant!" Lock Jordson yelled. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people will be talking about that one for years!" 

"Well done," a fifth year Hiccup had never spoken to said; someone was patting him on the back as though he'd just won a marathon. Double and Trouble pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn’t you've called us back, eh?"

Astrid laughed, scarlet with embarrassment but obviously delighted by this response. Hiccup, however, could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Askeladden was visible over the heads of some over exuberant first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Hiccup nudged Astrid in the ribs and nodded in Askeladden’s direction. Astrid got the point at once.

"Got to get upstairs—bit tired," she said, and with Ragnar following close behind they started pushing their way towards the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.

They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircase. Astrid took the staircase opposite that led her to the girl's dormitories.

"Night!" she called to Askeladden, who was still scowling.

Hiccup and Ragnar hurried up the staircase that led them to the boy's dormitories, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying "second years". They entered the familiar, circular room, with its five wooden beds and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and placed at the ends of their beds.

Hiccup glanced uncertainly at Ragnar. "I know I shouldn't have enjoyed that or anything, but—"

The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second year Gryffindor boys, Tuffnut Thorston, Wartihog Brandir, and Fishlegs Ingerman.

"Awesome!" Tuffnut and Wartihog yelled.

"Amazing," Fishlegs said, awestruck.

"It  _ does  _ seem pretty cool," Ragnar admitted.

Hiccup couldn't help it—he grinned too.

* * *

******I honestly could've called this chapter "Hiccup and Astrid Get Embarassed A Lot". That's basically half the plot of it right there.**

**Favorite line of chapter: "Miss Hofferson, you're bleeding."**

**(I find your lack of concern disturbing, Phlegma the Fierce)**

**Anyways! Reminder that I am always open to suggestions for what to do in later chapters. If your idea is used (and it probably will), you will be given credit in the opening AN of the chapter in question.**

**See ya'll next Monday!**

 

 


	6. Flashburn the Flashmaster

**Oh hey, I've got a question for you all. What is your favorite story from The Tales of Beedle the Bard? I'm partial to "The Tale of the Three Brothers", myself.**

**I'm not really going to do anything with this information; I just got my own copy of the book and I'm curious.**

**On with the chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter Six: Flashburn the Flashmaster_

* * *

The next day, however, Hiccup barely grinned once.

Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy grey). Hiccup and Ragnar sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Astrid, who was, for once, reading a book.

"So, how was your welcome at the girl's dorm?" Hiccup asked as he pulled a plate of kippers towards him.

"Well, Ruffnut thought it was awesome, Agatha Berdis was jealous, Maria Stonefoot was speechless and Sigrid Hideside thinks we’re both insane," Astrid replied, counting the names off on her fingers.

"Bet no one had ever done that before," Ragnar said as he took a bowl of porridge.

Then Fishlegs Ingerman joined them, whistling cheerfully. He was a husky, accident-prone boy with very skinny legs, who tended to get frightened by almost everything.

"Post's due any minute—I think Gran's sending a few things that I forgot."

Hiccup had only just started eating when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so Terrible Terrors streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy parcel bounced off Fishlegs's head, and a second later, something large and grey fell into Ragnar's porridge bowl.

"I think I'll skip the porridge today," Ragnar said, pushing the bowl away from him.

"Everwild!" Astrid said, pulling the bedraggled Terrible Terror out by the feet. Poor Everwild slumped, unconscious, onto the table, her legs stuck in the air. Tied to one of them was a red envelope, now covered in porridge.

Fishlegs gasped. "Oh gods…"

"I've been expecting this," Astrid said quietly.

"You expected her to fall into my porridge?" Ragnar asked, an incredulous expression on his face.

But Astrid didn’t yell at him. In fact, she wouldn’t even look at them.

"No—this," she said, removing the red envelope with seemingly numb fingers.

It looked quite ordinary to Hiccup, but Fishlegs was looking at it as though he expected it to explode.

"What's the matter?" Hiccup asked.

"Mum’s just sent me a Howler," Astrid admitted.

"And a Howler…is what?"

"Just—Just be thankful that you'll never get one," Astrid told him.

She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, despite his best efforts. It was really starting to frustrate him, not knowing what was bothering her.

"You'd better open it, Astrid," Fishlegs said in a timid whisper. "My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and"—he gulped—"it was horrible."

Hiccup looked from his petrified face, to Astrid’s solemn expression, to the red envelope, which was now starting to smoke around the corners.

"Brace yourselves," Astrid said, her voice small.

Fishlegs stuffed his fingers in his ears. Hiccup was wondering why a letter was worth all this fuss. It wasn't until Astrid opened it that he got his answer.

At first he thought it actually _had_ exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"ASTRID KATLA HOFFERSON, HOW _DARE_ YOU STEAL THAT CAR—I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU—YOU WAIT TILL I GET A HOLD OF YOU—I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW THAT IT WAS GONE…"

Mrs. Hofferson's yelling, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Astrid just sat there, completely still, as though she was made of marble.

"…A LETTER FROM ALVIS LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD _DIE_ OF SHAME—WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS—YOU TWO COULD HAVE BOTH DIED…"

Even though everyone probably knew it was him, Hiccup felt minor relief that his name hadn’t been mentioned.

"…I'M ABSOLUTELY ASHAMED—YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN ENQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT, AND IF YOU PUT SO MUCH AS ANOTHER _TOE_ OUT OF LINE, SO HELP ME YOUNG LADY WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!"

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Astrid's still hands, burst into flames and curled into ashes.

Over at the Slytherin table, a few people laughed, breaking the tension a bit. Gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Ragnar looked at the ashy remains of the Howler and then back at Astrid, who had buried her face into Hiccup’s shoulder.

"Well, I guess that could have been worse," he said.

"I deserved it," Astrid said hollowly, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric of Hiccup’s tunic.

Hiccup brushed the remains of the Howler away and awkwardly patted her back. He didn't feel very hungry anymore. His insides were brimming with guilt. Mr Hofferson was facing an enquiry at work. After all Mr and Mrs. Hofferson had done for him over the summer…

But he had no time to dwell on this; Phlegma the Fierce was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out timetables. Hiccup took his, and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar left the Grand Mountain together, crossed the vegetable patch and made for the farms, where the magical plants were kept.

As they neared the farms they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Eydis the Hardworking. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Flashburn the Flashmaster. Eydis’s arms were full of bandages, and with another twinge of guilt, Hiccup spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance. Several of its branches were now in slings.

Eydis was a squat little Valkyrie who wore a helmet with branches sticking out instead of horns over her bake-brown hair; there was a large amount of earth on her clothes and on her gloves. Flashburn, however, was immaculate in clothes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under his gleaming helmet.

"Oh, a lovely morning to you all!" Flashburn called, beaming around at the assembled students. Most of the female students smiled brightly at him, seemingly enamored by his "handsomeness", and that seemed to make Flashburn even more proud looking. "I’ve just been showing Eydis the proper way to heal a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happened to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…"

"We’re in Barn House Three, dears!" Eydis exclaimed, cutting him off. She was looking rather disgruntled, not at all like her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in Barn House One before—Barn House Three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Eydis took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Hiccup caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer, mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He and Astrid were about to follow Ragnar inside when Flashburn’s hand shot out.

"Hiccup! I've been wanting a word—you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Eydis?"

Judging by her scowl, she _did_ mind, but Flashburn said, "That's the ticket," and closed the barn house door right in her face.

Astrid gave Hiccup a look that said, quite clearly, _"I can’t_ **_believe_ ** _he just did that."_

He couldn’t possibly agree with her more.

"Hiccup," Flashburn said, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup."

Completely nonplussed, Hiccup said nothing.

"When I heard—well, of course, I knew it was entirely my fault. I could have kicked myself."

Hiccup had no idea what he was talking about. He was about to say so when Flashburn went on, "I don't know if I've ever been more surprised. Flying a car to Berk! Well, of, course; I knew at once why you'd done it. The answer stood out a mile. Hiccup, Hiccup, _Hiccup."_

It was remarkable, Hiccup supposed, how Flashburn could show every one of his blindingly-white teeth even when he wasn't talking.

"Um, actually sir," Astrid piped up, "It was my idea to—"

"Gave you a taste for publicity, didn't I?" Flashburn continued as though she had never spoken. "Oh yes, I gave you the _bug._ You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again."

"Oh—no, sir, see—"

"Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup," Flashburn said, reaching out to grasp his shoulder tightly. "I _understand._ Perfectly natural to want a bit more once you've had your first taste—and I blame myself for giving you that, it was bound to go to your head—but see here, young man, you can't start _flying cars_ to try and get yourself noticed. Lad, calm down a little, alright? There’s plenty of time for all of that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for _him;_ he's an internationally famous Viking already!' But when I was twelve, I was even more of a nobody than you are now! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with the Dragon Lord!" he glanced almost dismissively at the lightning-bolt scar on Hiccup's forehead. "I know, I know, it's not quite as glamorous as winning _Valkyrie Weekly’s_ Most-Charming Smile Award five times in a row, as I have—but it's a _start_."

He gave Hiccup a hearty wink and started to stride off. Hiccup stood stunned. He hadn’t thought it was possible, but he had just found someone with a bigger ego than Snotlout Jorgenson.

Suddenly, Astrid called out, "He’s more famous than you’ll ever be."

Flashburn spun around, clearly surprised, and gave her a puzzled grin. "What was that, my dear girl? I don’t think I heard correctly…"

But Astrid turned away from him. "Come on Hiccup, we’re late," She said, looping her arm through Hiccup's and all but dragging him towards Barn House Three. He complied, doing his best not to laugh at the look of utter shock on Flashburn’s face. The man was obviously not used to a young Valkyrie insulting his pride and then giving him the cold shoulder.

_"You reaped what you sowed,"_ Hiccup thought gleefully.

Eydis was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the barn house. About twenty pairs of different colored earmuff were lying on the bench. When Hiccup and Astrid had taken their places beside Ragnar, she said, "We'll be re-potting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Ragnar's hand was the first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," Ragnar said, sounding as though he had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state." Eydis smiled at him, but Ragnar hadn’t finished. "The Mandrake form an essential part of most antidotes, but it is also quite dangerous, because the Mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone that hears it."

"Excellent. Twenty points to Gryffindor," Eydis said. "Now our Mandrakes are only seedlings, so their cries won't kill you just yet. However, they _can_ knock you out for a couple of hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, I made sure there are plenty of earmuffs for everyone."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke and everyone shuffled forwards for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Hiccup, who didn't have the slightest idea what Ragnar or Eydis meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake.

"Everyone, take a pair of earmuffs," Eydis said.

There was a quick, fairly brutal scramble as everyone attempted to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy. Hiccup and Astrid made it out victorious—Ragnar, not so much.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are _completely_ covered," Eydis cautioned. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs up. Right then—earmuffs _on_."

Hiccup snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Eydis then put a pair of pink, fluffy earmuffs over her own ears, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Hiccup let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of its head. It had pale green, mottled skin and was clearly bawling at the top of its lungs.

Eydis took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. She dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"It would seem that Brandir has neglected his earmuffs," Eydis observed, shaking her head in mild disappointment.

Hiccup looked over to where Wartihog had been standing. Sure enough, the boy was laying flat on his back on the ground.

"No, ma'am, he's just fainted," Ruffnut said, looking down at Wartihog and nudging him roughly with her foot.

"Yes, well, just leave him there for now," Eydis sighed. "Now four to a tray—there is a large supply of pots here—compost in the sacks over there—and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw it long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar were joined at their tray by a curly haired Hufflepuff boy, who was wearing a hat with cow horns on it. Hiccup knew the boy by sight, but had never spoken to him.

"Hardbottom Highhat," he said brightly, shaking Hiccup by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Hiccup Haddock…and you're Ragnar Wicket—always top in everything…" (Ragnar looked a little embarrassed as he had his hand shaken too) "And you’re Astrid Hofferson. Say, wasn't that your flying car?"

Astrid looked as if she was about to punch him in the face. The Howler had obviously shaken her up more than she was willing to admit.

"That Flashburn’s something, isn't he?" Hardbottom said happily, as they began filling their plants pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave man. Have you read his books? I’d have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone box by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and—bam—just _fantastic_."

_( Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ began the constant mantra in Hiccup’s head)

_"My_ name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how _glad_ I am that I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Flashburn’s books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained Viking in the family…"

After that, thank the gods, they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Eydis had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth; Hiccup spent five minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot, before Astrid spotted his dilemma and helped him out.

By the end of the class, Hiccup, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching and covered in earth. They traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash, and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

Phlegma the Fierce's classes were always hard work, but today’s lesson was especially difficult. Everything Hiccup had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, which should have been easy enough, but for quite a while all he managed to do was give his beetle plenty of exercise as it scuttled over the desk top, avoiding his crystal eye.

Astrid was having far worse problems. She had tried her best, but her crystal eye seemed to have been damaged beyond any sort of repair. It kept out shooting out sparks of lightning at odd moments, and every time Astrid tried to transfigure her beetle it engulfed her in a thick grey smoke which smelled of rotten eggs.

"That crystal eye of yours needs replacing, Miss Hofferson," Phlegma said, after blowing away the smoke. Hiccup couldn’t be sure, but she sounded almost amused.

Soon the lunch bell rang, much to Hiccup’s relief. His brain felt like a wrung-out sponge.

"She's right you know," Hiccup said quietly, as they made their way down to lunch. "I don’t think that your crystal eye is fixable."

"I can't write home and ask for new one," Astrid said, as she placed the cracked crystal eye back onto her axe. "Mum would send another Howler. Besides, there’s no way we could afford it."

Hiccup opened his mouth, perfectly willing to offer to buy her a new crystal eye, but he closed it when he remembered how she would likely react.

When they finally reached the Great Hall for lunch, Astrid's mood was not improved by Ragnar showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons he had produced in Transfiguration.

"What've we got this afternoon?" Hiccup asked, hastily changing the subject.

Unfortunately, this only served to make Astrid’s mood worsen.

"Combat Arts," she grumbled. "More time with Flashburn the Flashmaster, aren’t we lucky?"

They bolted down their lunches, with Astrid taking some of her anger out on her food, and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Astrid sat down on a stone step and began sharpening her axe, muttering furiously all the while. Hiccup and Ragnar stood close by, talking about dragons for several minutes before Hiccup became aware that he was being watched.

Looking up, he saw the very small, dark-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Helmet last night, staring at him as though transfixed. In Hiccup's mind, he looked almost like a mini Snotlout, but he was clutching what appeared to be an ordinary Muggle camera. The moment he realized Hiccup had spotted him, the boy’s entire face turned a very bright shade of red.

"Alright there, Hiccup? I'm—I'm Gustav Larson," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. Do you think—would it be alright if— I can have a picture?" he asked, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Hiccup repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," Gustav said eagerly, edging further forwards. "I know all about you. Everyone told me. About how you survived when the Dragon Lord tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead," (his eyes raked Hiccup's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right position, the pictures will _move."_ Gustav drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "Its _brilliant_ here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was _magic;_ everyone else just thought I was crazy."

"Yeah, imagine that," Astrid said, placing her axe down to watch the show unfolding in front of her with slight amusement.

Her mood seemed to have improved a bit, which was the only thing that stopped Hiccup from asking Gustav to go away.

"Anyway, my dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you—" he looked imploringly at Hiccup, "—maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

_"Signed photos?_ You're giving out _signed photos_ , Useless?"

Loud and scathing, the voice of Snotlout Jorgenson echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Gustav, flanked, as he always was at Berk, by his large and thuggish cronies, Hjartán and Falskur.

"Everyone line up!" Snotlout roared to the crowd. "Hiccup the Useless is giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," Hiccup said angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Snotlout."

"You're just jealous," Gustav piped up, even though his entire body was about as thick as Hjartán’s neck.

_"Jealous?"_ Snotlout sneered. He didn't need to shout anymore; half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? He's weak and scrawny, he’s no proper Viking. That scar on his head doesn’t really mean much. _I,_ on the other hand, am a perfect example of what a Viking is supposed to be. If you want to take some real pictures, photograph me, kid."

"Leave him alone," Astrid hissed dangerously, storming up to him with her axe in hand.

"Oh, hello there darling," Snotlout said, smiling in a way only he could think was charming. "Shame you didn't go with me on the train; your family wouldn’t have reached an all-time low."

Astrid was about to swing her axe at him, but Hiccup, whose heart had plummeted into his stomach, grabbed her arm and whispered, "Heads up."

Confused, Astrid glanced where his gaze had been. She promptly groaned. "Oh for the love of—Can this day get away worse?!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Flashburn was striding towards them, his turquoise cape swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Hiccup attempted to speak, but he was cut short as Flashburn flung an arm around his and Astrid’s shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Hiccup!"

Pinned to Flashburn’s side and burning with humiliation, Hiccup and Astrid watched Snotlout slide back into the crowd, glaring at them.

"Come on then, young Gustav," Flashburn said, beaming down at an awestruck Gustav. "A double portrait, with a lovely young lady to boot, can't say fairer than that, and Hiccup and I’ll _both_ sign it for you. How’s that for you, lad?"

Gustav fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Flashburn called to the crowd, and he set off to the arena with Hiccup, who was wishing he knew a good vanishing spell, and Astrid still clasped to his side.

"A word to the wise, Hiccup," Flashburn said paternally as they walked down to the arena. "I covered up for you back there with young Gustav—if he was photographing me, too, your academy friends won't think you're setting yourself up so much…"

Deaf to Hiccup’s protests, Flashburn swept them down the pathway that lead to the arena, already lined with staring students.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible—looks a tad big-headed, Hiccup, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but"—he gave a little chortle—"I don't think you're quite there yet."

They had reached the arena and he at last let go of Hiccup and Astrid. Hiccup yanked his fur vest straight, Astrid readjusted her shoulder guards, and together they headed for seats at the very back of the class, where Hiccup busied himself with piling all seven of Flashburn’s books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing. Astrid sat down on his left, fuming.

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ragnar sat down on Hiccup’s right side.

"I'm impressed that you two were able to keep your cool," Ragnar said.

"Yeah, and I hope the Gustav doesn't start talking to Egill; they'll be starting a Hiccup Haddock fan club if we aren’t careful," Astrid added.

"Astrid, for the sake of my dignity, please don't mention a 'Hiccup Haddock fan club' while we are within a hundred miles of Flashburn," Hiccup said.

She gave him a small smile at that one. "Don’t tempt me."

When the whole class was seated, Flashburn cleared his throat loudly, and a stark silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Fishlegs' copy of _Travels with Trolls_ and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well, "Flashburn the Flashmaster, Order of Haddock, third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League and five times winner of _Valkyrie Weekly's_ Most-Charming Smile Award—but I don't talk about that last one very often. I didn't get rid of the Bandon dark-elf by smiling at him!"

He then smiled at the class, as though expecting them to laugh. Hiccup and Ragnar exchanged exasperated looks.

"Could have fooled me," Ragnar muttered. Hiccup nodded in agreement.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books—well done, _very_ well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in…"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes, starting— _now!"_

Hiccup looked down at his paper and read:

  1. _What is Flashburn the Flashmaster's favorite color?_
  2. _What is Flashburn_ _the Flashmaster's secret ambition?_
  3. _What, in your opinion, is Flashburn the Flashmaster's greatest achievement to date?_



On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

  1. _When is Flashburn the Flashmaster’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_



Half an hour later, Flashburn collected all of the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut—hardly any of you remember that my favorite color is in fact lilac. I say so in _Fighting with a Frost-giant_ . And a few of you need to read _Weekend with a Werewolf_ more carefully—I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples—though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

He gave the class another roguish wink.

Ragnar was now staring at Flashburn with an expression of utter disbelief on his face; Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter.

"…but Miss Astrid Hofferson knew that my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions—good girl! In fact—" he flipped her paper over, "full marks! Where is Miss Astrid Hofferson?"

He looked around, trying to find her, but Astrid had buried her head under her arms. "Miss Hofferson?"

Hiccup nudged her gently. "Astrid, you have to raise your hand."

She didn’t look up, and her voice was slightly muffled when she spoke. "I’m good here, thanks."

"Well," Flashburn shrugged, beaming, "it would appear she’s a wee bit shy. Still, quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor, my dear girl! And so, to business…"

He then walked up to cages that were on the other side of the arena.

"Now—be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to Vikingkind! I am also supposed to teach you how to tame your first dragon, but that is not as easy as you might think. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of himself, Hiccup leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cages. Astrid very slowly lifted her head. Ruffnut and Tuffnut had stopped laughing, and Fishlegs was cowering in his front row seat.

Flashburn placed his hand on a lever next to the cage.

"I must ask you not to scream," he said in a low voice. "She’s a feisty one, this dragon. You might provoke her."

As the whole class held its breath, Flashburn pulled on the lever and the cage began to open slowly.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Behold the Deadly Nadder."

A Deadly Nadder walked out. Hiccup recognized it at once. It was the same Deadly Nadder he saw last year when he first met Toothless. The Deadly Nadder was absolutely beautiful, with its blue and yellow scales.

Astrid sucked in a breath and sat ramrod straight. Hiccup couldn’t help but smile; he knew that the Deadly Nadder had been the Hofferson's dragon of choice for generations.

"Now I'll show you how to calm this Nadder, because I myself ride a Deadly Nadder," Flashburn said, winking at the class yet again.

The Deadly Nadder snorted, giving him an exasperated look. _“Buddy, we Deadly Nadders have this thing called standards. You fit none of them.”_

Hiccup almost shook with laughter. This dragon had an attitude to her, just like Astrid.

Flashburn then all but shoved his hand against the Deadly Nadder's snout.

Almost at once, the Deadly Nadder went berserk. She roared several choice curse words and started shooting spikes out of her tail and firing a stream of fire in all directions. Sharp spikes got stuck in the wall and wooden crates were set on fire. Fishlegs got hit by its flames and began running around trying to find any nearby water. The Thorston twins looked at her with wonder, clearly loving the fact that the Deadly Nadder was destroying everything in her path. Most of the class hid under their desks, and Fishlegs had finally found a trough full of water and relaxed as stream exited it.

"No need to panic, I have this all under control," Flashburn said, pulling out his gleaming sword. "A little bit of lightning magic will calm it down."

He swung his sword and fired three very weak bolts of lightning at the Deadly Nadder. However, she easily dodged them, roaring.

_“Pathetic!”_ she screeched, firing several spikes in his general direction. Flashburn gulped and dived under the nearest desk, very narrowly avoiding them. _"Actually try, you talentless attention whore!"_

Hiccup glanced at Astrid, who was already standing.

"We have to help her," she said. Before anyone could try and stop her, she somersaulted over the desks and landed in front of the Deadly Nadder. Hiccup followed.

"Get back, children!" Flashburn called when he peered out and saw them. "Not to worry, I have this all under control—"

Astrid ignored him. "Shh," she cooed to the Deadly Nadder. "It’s OK, girl, I won’t hurt you…"

The Deadly Nadder paused, staring down at the blonde girl before her. _“Goodness, you’re a very pretty youngling, aren’t you?”_

"She thinks you’re pretty," Hiccup whispered.

Astrid smiled. "Am I? Thank you! You’re pretty too, girl; such lovely scales…"

The dragon purred contently. _“Ooh, I_ **_like_ ** _you, youngling!”_

She then gave Astrid a big lick. Astrid squealed in slight protest, before she started laughing. "Yes, you’re very pretty indeed! And _fast_ too—oh, you are simply incredible."

_"Flattery will get you_ **_everywhere_ ** _."_

The Deadly Nadder nuzzled her side, and glanced at Hiccup. _“You understand me, youngling? Tell her I’ve chosen her.”_

"She’s chosen you," Hiccup told Astrid, who positively glowed with joy. Blood roared in his ears at the sight, so he added, "She…She needs a name, you know."

Astrid considered this for a minute. "I think I'll call her…Stormfly," she said at last, rubbing her hand on the Deadly Nadder’s snout.

The newly named Stormfly nuzzled her again. _"Perfect."_

The bell rang right then, breaking the transfixed silence that had befallen the rest of the class. There was a mad rush towards the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Flashburn straightened up, glanced at Astrid, Hiccup, and Stormfly and managed, "Well, I, uh…Well done." He swept past them and shut the gate behind him.

"Can you _believe_ him?" Hiccup grumbled.

Astrid nodded. "It’s a bloody miracle he managed to do anything in his books."

Stormfly purred. _“I couldn’t possibly agree with you more, youngling.”_

* * *

** Reasons why I decided against Astrid having a crush on Flashburn the Flashmaster: **

  1. **I was never a particularly big fan of the crush when it was Hermione towards Lockheart, but character-wise it at least made _sense._ My version of Astrid doesn’t have that excuse. She’s not exactly in touch with her more, ahem, "feminine" emotions (basically any sort of vulnerability or affection), and as such would _not_ behave like Hermione did if she had a crush on someone. Helheim, if anything she’d be vehemently denying the fact that she had a crush in the first place.**
  2. **Even if I were to look past all of that (and that’s a pretty big if), Astrid already _has_ a crush on somebody (no points for guessing who). Hence how I know how she'd behave whilst having a crush on someone.**
  3. **(And I fully blame LeoPK for this one)...Technical spoilers (yes I know you all have read the original series, just humor me for a bit here), but let's just say Rule 34 has something to do with it.**



**Favorite line of chapter: "Hiccup and Astrid made it out victorious—Ragnar, not so much."**

**(Hahaha, sorry Ragnar, I just had to do it)**

**Honorary mention to "( _Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ began the constant mantra in Hiccup’s head)" I don't have a comment, I just love this line.**

**Alright everybody, that's all for today. Remember to comment, bookmark, and/or leave a kudos—Remember, everyone gets a shout-out at the end!**

**See you next Monday!**


	7. Mudbloods and Murmurs

**We've reached one hundred hits! Two whole chapters ahead of last book's schedule! And there are 20 comments and 10 kudos! Woo-hoo!**

**(What no I'm not overexcited what are you talking about)**

* * *

_Chapter Seven: Mudbloods and Murmurs_

* * *

Hiccup and Astrid spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever they saw Flashburn the Flashmaster coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Gustav Larson, who seemed to have memorized Hiccup's timetable. Nothing seemed to give Gustav a bigger thrill than to say, "Alright there, Hiccup?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Gustav", back, regardless of how exasperated Hiccup sounded when he said it.

Blood-Spatter had forgiven him, but Sharpshot was still angry with Hiccup about the disastrous car journey. And Astrid's crystal eye was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting a jolt of lightning and hitting tiny old Alvar the Charmer, making him experience violent shocks every so often. All in all, they were both very relieved to have reached the weekend in one piece. They and Ragnar were planning to visit Gobber on Saturday morning. Hiccup, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Eret Eretson, Captain of the Gryffindor Dragon Racing team.

"Whassamatter?" Hiccup asked groggily.

_ “What’s the big deal?!” _ Blood-Spatter growled, his head just barely peeking out from under the covers.

"Dragon Racing practice!" Eret exclaimed. "Come on, lad, get up!"

Hiccup squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Eret," Hiccup croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," Eret said. He was a tall and burly sixth year, and at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with maddened enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training program. Now get dressed, grab your saddle and let's go," he went on heartily, already at the door. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year…"

Yawning and shivering slightly, Hiccup climbed out of bed and tried to find his clothes. Blood-Spatter, helpful dragon that he was, pulled his father’s cape out from underneath Ragnar’s bed.

"Good man," Eret said, nodding in approval. "Meet you on the pitch in fifteen minutes."

When he'd found his clothing, and pulled on his fur vest and cape for warmth, Hiccup scribbled a note to Ragnar explaining where he'd gone. Instructing Blood-Spatter to give it to him when he woke up, Hiccup then went down the spiral staircase to the common room, with his Nimbus Two Thousand saddle tucked under his left arm. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a loud clatter behind him.

"Hiccup!"

Gustav Larson came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something else clutched tightly in his hands.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Hiccup! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you—"

Hiccup looked bemusedly at the photograph Gustav was brandishing under his nose.

A moving, black and white Flashburn was tugging hard on an arm Hiccup recognized as his own. He was a bit pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. Another arm joined his fight, likely Astrid’s. As Hiccup watched, photo Flashburn gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" Gustav asked eagerly.

"No," Hiccup said flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "Sorry, Gustav, I don’t want to be rude, but I'm in a hurry—I have to get to Dragon Racing practice—"

He climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Dragon Racing game before!"

Gustav scrambled through the hole after him.

"It’ll be really boring," Hiccup said quickly, but Gustav didn’t seem to have heard him; his face was shining with excitement.

"You were the youngest house player in a hundred years, weren't you, Hiccup? Weren't you?" Gustav said, trotting alongside him. "One of the boys in my dorm told me that, and that you ride on a Night Fury."

"By any chance, was his name Egill Hofferson?" Hiccup asked.

"How did you guess?" Gustav asked, staring at Hiccup in awe.

"I'm psychic," Hiccup muttered.

"Anyway, you must be brilliant. I've never flown on a dragon before. Is it easy? Is that your own saddle? Is that the best one there is?"

Hiccup had no idea how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow.

"I don't really understand Dragon Racing," Gustav admitted breathlessly. "Is it true that there are four balls? And two of them fly round trying to knock people off of their dragons?"

"Yes," Hiccup said heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Dragon Racing. "They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Double and Trouble Hofferson are the Gryffindor Beaters, and they’ve never failed yet."

"And what are the other balls for?" Gustav asked, tripping down a couple of steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Hiccup.

"Well, the Quaffle—that's the biggish white one—is the one that scores goals. At the start of the game it multiplies and flies' around the pitch. Three Chasers on each team grab any one of the Quaffles and try and get it through the basket at the end of the pitch."

"And the fourth ball—"

"—is the Dark Snitch," Hiccup said, "and it's very small, very fast and extremely difficult to catch. But that's what the Seeker's got to do, because a game of Dragon Racing doesn't end until the Snitch has been caught. And whichever team's Seeker gets the Snitch earns his team an extra hundred and fifty points, usually winning the game."

"And you're the Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you?" Gustav said in awe.  

"Yes," Hiccup said, as they left the mountain and started across the dew drenched grass. "And there's a Keeper, too. He guards the basket. Also all the players, apart from the Beaters and the Keeper, are allowed to bring weapons, but they have to keep them sheathed. And if any of the players falls into the water, they’re out of the game. That's it, really."

But Gustav didn't stop questioning Hiccup all the way down the sloping lawn to the Dragon Stables. He only stopped when Hiccup opened the stable doors and got rammed by a big black dragon.

"Toothless!" Hiccup gasped, trying in vain to free himself from the over-exuberant dragon’s clutches.

_ “Hiccup!”  _ Toothless roared happily, licking him all over.  _ “You’re back!” _

Toothless was an average sized dragon with black scales. However, unlike any other dragon, Toothless had strange ear plates, bat-like wings and retractable teeth. He was the fastest dragon on Berk, no matter what kind of saddle he wore, as well as the rarest.

Finally Hiccup managed to pull himself back to his feet. He patted the dragon’s snout fondly, murmuring "I missed you too, bud."

After Gustav stopped geeking out and taking pictures of Toothless (who did not appreciate this attention in the slightest), both he and Hiccup climbed onto Toothless' back and flew over to the Dragon Racing pitch. Once they got there, Gustav hopped off of Toothless, squeaked, "I'll go and get a good seat, Hiccup!" and hurried off to the stands.

Toothless snorted.  _ "He’s annoying" _

Hiccup chuckled. "Nice to know I’m not the only one who thinks that."

The rest of the Gryffindor team was standing on a floating platform over the freezing cold water. Eret seemed to be the only one, apart from the dragons, who looked truly awake. Double and Trouble Hofferson were sitting, puffy-eyes and tousle-haired on their dragons. Fourth year Elfchild Spinson was laying on her Thunderdrum, Boom. Her fellow Chasers, Kari Bellson and Ashe Jerkson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

"There you are, Hiccup, what kept you?" Eret asked briskly, though he didn’t wait for a response. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get started, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference…"

Eret was holding up a large diagram of a Dragon Racing pitch, on which were drawn many lines, arrows and crosses in different colored inks. He took out his sword, tapped the board and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. Hiccup had to admit, Eret's water magic was impressive. He hadn’t known that even when the ink was dry, it could still move like water.

As Eret launched into a speech about his new tactics, Double Hofferson's head laid upon Boom next to Elfchild Spinson's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Hiccup lay down on Toothless' back as Eret droned on and on. The dragon didn’t mind; he was falling asleep too.

"So," Eret said at last, jerking Hiccup from a wistful fantasy about how he could be eating for breakfast as this very moment up in the Great Hall, "is that clear? Are there any questions?"

"I've got one, Eret," Trouble said, having woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Eret wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all, "We should have won the Dragon Racing cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately, owing to circumstances beyond our control…"

Hiccup gulped, attempting to avoid Eret’s gaze by poking Toothless awake. He had been unconscious in the Infirmary for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short. According to Ragnar, they had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Eret took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.

"So this year, we train harder than ever before…okay team, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Eret shouted, hopping onto his Rumblehorn, Skullcrusher, and taking off into the air. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team reluctantly followed his lead.

Eret had been talking for so long that the sun was up properly now, although remnants of mist hung over the lake. As Hiccup took off, he saw Astrid and Ragnar sitting in the stands. Sitting behind them, carefully grooming her scales, was Stormfly.

"Aren't you finished yet?" Astrid called out incredulously.

"We haven't even started," Hiccup grumbled—or maybe that was his stomach, he had no idea. He gave a jealous look to the toast and marmalade Astrid and Ragnar had brought out of the Great Hall. "Eret's been teaching us new moves."

As they flew around, the cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Eret's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Dragon Racing pitch. Toothless soared around the stadium at full speed, blazing straight passed Double and Trouble.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" Double called, as they hurtled around the corner.

Hiccup looked into the stands. Gustav was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, and taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Hiccup! This way!" he cried shrilly.

Hiccup pretended to have not heard him; he urged Toothless to fly as far away from Gustav as possible.

"What's going on?" Eret said, frowning, as he flew towards them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," Hiccup said. "He came with me; he's a pretty difficult person to shake off."

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Eret," Trouble said.

"What make you say that?" Eret said testily.

"Because they're here in person," Trouble said, pointing to the other end of the field.

Several people on vicious-looking dragons flew onto the pitch.

"I don't believe it!" Eret hissed in outrage. "I booked the pitch for today! We'll see about this!"

Eret flew over to them and Skullcrusher roared angrily, echoing his rider’s thought. Hiccup, Double and Trouble followed.

"Dagur!" Eret bellowed at the Slytherin Captain, "This is  _ our  _ practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Dagur Owson was the same height as Eret, and not nearly as buff, but Dagur was crazy. He looked even crazier sitting on top of his dragon Deathwing, a Skrill with a tendency of sparking electricity every so often.

"Plenty of room for all of us, Eret," he replied.

Ashe, Elfchild and Kari had flown over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who moved close together, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the pitch!" Eret said, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," Dagur said, "But I've got a specially signed note here from Asketill.  _ I, Asketill the Harsh, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Dragon Racing pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker. _ "

"You've got a new Seeker?" Eret asked, momentarily distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, a smirk dominating his arrogant features. It was Snotlout Jorgenson, riding on a reddish orange Monstrous Nightmare.

"Surprised, Useless?" Snotlout asked smugly. "Me and my boy Hookfang here are going to leave you in the dust."

"Aren't you Spitelout the Stern's son?" Double asked, looking at Snotlout with immediate dislike.

Snotlout’s smirk grew even bigger. "That’s me."

"Funny you mention Snotlout's father," Dagur said, as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Haven't you noticed the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team?"

It was then that Hiccup noticed that they were riding on brand new, highly polished saddles, and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words "Nimbus Two Thousand and One" gleamed in the early morning sun.

"The very latest model. Only came out last month," Dagur said carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the side of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount, even if the rider is on a Night Fury. As for the old Cleansweeps…"—he smiled nastily at Double and Trouble, who both rode on Cleansweep Fives—"Might as well use  _ those _ for scrap leather."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Snotlout was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh look," Dagur said, "A pitch invasion."

Astrid and Ragnar were flying up to them on Stormfly to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Astrid asked Hiccup as she slid off her dragon. "Why aren't you playing? And what's  _ he _ doing here?"

She was looking directly at Snotlout, who smirked and winked at her.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, darling," Snotlout boasted, placing a hand against his heart. "You know, if you go out with me, I could get you a saddle just like the ones we’re riding on."

Astrid stared at the saddles with horror. The thought of how badly the Gryffindors might lose against these saddles seemed to have rendered her temporarily speechless.

"Good, aren't they?" Snotlout said smoothly, sliding off and starting to approach her. It was a testament to how stunned Astrid was that she didn’t move. "A shame that  _ your  _ clan can't afford anything like these—you don’t even  _ have  _ a saddle."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to  _ buy _ their way in," Ragnar said, smiling icily.  _ "They _ got in on pure talent."

Snotlout paused, the smug look on his face flickering.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Hiccup knew at once that Snotlout had insulted Ragnar, because there was an instant uproar at his words. Dagur had to push Snotlout out of the way to avoid getting hit by the spine shots of Double and Trouble’s Deadly Nadders, Spike and Strike. Elfchild shrieked,  _ "How dare you!".  _ Her fellow chasers only just managed to hold her back

Astrid snapped out of her trance; she pulled out her axe, yelling, "You'll pay for that one!" and pointed it furiously at Snotlout's face.

The resulting bang echoed around the stadium; a sudden jolt of lightning shot out of the handle of Astrid's axe, hitting her right in the stomach. She would have fallen into the freezing water if Hiccup hadn’t lurched forward and caught her.

"Astrid!" Hiccup exclaimed, laying her down on the pontoon. He knelt beside her, gently prying the axe out of her hand. "Are you alright?"

Astrid sat up, but didn't speak. At first, Hiccup thought that the shock had simply rendered her speechless again, but a jolt of electricity then sparked around her. She fell limp against Hiccup, moaning in pain.

"Her attack backfired!" Ragnar whispered, horrified. "It hit  _ her _ instead!"

As though to prove his point, there was a second, stronger jolt of electricity. The moaning grew louder, this time accompanied by the words "Oh gods…"

Hiccup looked at Astrid’s crystal eye, which was smoldering slightly, and felt his resolve harden. Gone was his concern that Astrid might punch him in the face; Wermond the Eye-giver would be receiving a letter tonight, as well as a Terrible Terror’s weight in galleons, and Hiccup would sport a black eye for the rest of the bloody  _ year _ if he had to. Anything if it meant that Astrid would be safe.

The Slytherin team was almost paralyzed with laughter. Dagur was laughing like the madman that he was, grabbing hold of his saddle for support. One of the Beaters was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. Only Snotlout seemed unhappy.

"Darling," he cooed, attempting to come close to Astrid. "Poor Astrid, her family couldn’t be bothered to get her a proper replacement. Shows how much they care—"

_ "Stay away from her," _ Hiccup growled, pulling Astrid closer. The bully leapt a full three feet backwards, knocking into his Monstrous Nightmare. The Slytherin team went deathly quiet.

The Gryffindors gathered around Astrid, who kept experiencing violent electric shocks in Hiccup’s arms. Nobody was willing to touch her apart from Hiccup, who found that he hardly felt it. Lightning, after all, was just another form of fire, and he was immune to the burn.

"We'd better get her to Gobber's, it's nearest," Hiccup said to Ragnar, who nodded bravely, before gingerly helping him get Astrid onto Toothless’s back. Hiccup then got on in front of her.

"Hold on tight, Milady," he whispered to her.

She obeyed wordlessly, looping her arms around his waist and holding on tight.

Ragnar then hopped onto Stormfly (Who insisted on making it clear that,  _ "I’m only letting you on because my rider’s hurt"), _ and the three of them took off.

As they flew over the stands, Gustav looked up at them.

"What happened, Hiccup? What happened? Is that your girlfriend? Where are you taking her?" Gustav asked, as he ran across the stands to talk to them. Hiccup glanced back at Astrid. She looked as if she wanted to punch Gustav, but then experienced another violent electric shock. Her head fell limp against Hiccup’s shoulder, and she emitted another painful moan. The sound travelled directly to Hiccup’s heart and held it in a viselike grip.

"Ooooooh," Gustav said, fascinated, and raising his camera, "Can you hold her still, Hiccup?"

If it weren’t for the fact that Astrid might need urgent help, Hiccup would have turned around and punched the boy for her. He had a sudden, inexplicable urge to destroy everything around them. It was sick, soul-consuming…But Astrid twitched again, her grip on him tightening, and the strange desire died as quickly as it had come. Concern took its place, and he urged Toothless to move faster.

They flew back towards Berk and landed as soon as they reached the small village. Hiccup helped Astrid off of Toothless, looping Astrid’s arm around his shoulders and his arm around her waist, in order to properly support her.

"Nearly there, Astrid," Hiccup assured her (and maybe himself) as they made their way to the forge, "You'll be alright in a minute…we’re almost there…"

They were within twenty feet of Gobber's forge when the front door opened, but it wasn't Gobber who emerged. Flashburn the Flashmaster, wearing clothing of palest mauve today and smiling even more than usual, came striding out.

"Quick, behind here," Hiccup hissed, as Ragnar pushed the dragons behind a nearby house.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Flashburn said loudly to Gobber, who looked as though he might have cheerfully strangled him. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book—I'm surprised you haven't already got one. I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!" And he strode away towards the mountain.

Hiccup waited until Flashburn was completely out of sight, and then supported Astrid up to Gobber's forge. Ragnar opened the door and they hurried inside. As soon as they did, they found a very grumpy Gobber, whose expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when yeh'd some to see me—come in, come in—thought yeh might a bin Flashburn back again."

Hiccup helped Astrid into a chair near the window, where the forge was burning not too far away, and they could see tools of all kinds scattered about. Hiccup spotted the photo of five young Vikings he had seen the year before. This time he recognized the big beefy one that was his father, Stoick the Vast, after seeing him in both the Mirror of Erised and the photo album Gobber had given to him last year. He could tell which one was Gobber as well, since he was the biggest out of all them. The other three, he still didn't know; one was just as big and beefy as his father, while the other two were much smaller and skinnier.

Pulling himself out of these musings, Hiccup gave Gobber a quick explanation of what had happened on the pitch.

"Don't worry, it should pass in a few hours, just make sure not to get near any water," Gobber said.

"Yeah, lightning magic isn't easy to use at the best of times," Ragnar said, as Astrid gave out another violent shock. "It’s especially difficult with an old weapon and a cracked crystal eye."

Gobber was bustling around, making them some coffee. His Hotburple, Grump, was sleeping opposite of the forge, which had now gone out.

"Grump, yeh lazy sausage, wake up; the fire's gone out again!" Gobber yelled.

Grump moved his head so it was pointing at the forge and fired a lava blast. The blast reignited the fire, but it also set most of the wood furniture a light (not the chair with Astrid in it, thank the gods). Hiccup had to use his fire magic to make the flames die out.

"What did Flashburn want with you, Gobber?" Hiccup asked, resheathing his sword.

"Givin’ me advice on how to forge a sword," growled Gobber, moving a large piece of iron off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' already know how. An' bangin' on about some Dark-elf he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat meh hook."

It was most unlike Gobber to criticize a Berk teacher and the three friends stared at him in surprise.

"He likes to think he’s the best man fer the job—truth is, he was the  _ only _ man fer the job," Gobber went on, offering them a plate of treacle fudge. "An' I mean the  _ only _ one. Gettin' harder to find anyone fer the Combat Art job. People aren't too keen to take it on, see. They're startin’ to think the job’s cursed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. But getting  _ Flashburn  _ to take the job? We’re really scraping the bottom of the dung barrel."

"That’s putting it mildly," Astrid managed to say.

"Wait, you mean you know him?" Hiccup asked.

"Yeah, he came to Berk a few years under yer dad," Gobber said, shaking his head. "Mind yeh, I was already expelled when he showed up, but from what I heard he was an idiot."

Hiccup knew Gobber had been expelled in his third year. Hiccup had never found out why; he’d asked many times, but Gobber would clear his throat loudly and act deaf until the subject was changed. He was also not allowed to use magic, but like most Vikings he never followed the rules. Hiccup had reason to believe that Gobber had placed the fragment remains of his crystal eye in his icy prosthetic, which could change shape at will for any need.

"He once begged Alvis to start an academy newspaper, just so he could see his own name in printed on it. Alvis saw through this, of course, and dismissed the idea."

"So, he was full of himself even back then," Ragnar said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, how that man became such a famous Viking is well beyond me. So tell me," Gobber said, jerking his head towards Astrid, "Who was she trying to blast, anyway?"

"Snotlout called Ragnar something. It must've been really bad, because everyone went mad," Hiccup said.

"It  _ was _ bad," Astrid said, just as she recovered from her last shock. "Snotlout called him "Mudblood", Gobber—" 

She stopped, letting out a strangled squeak as she got hit by another jolt of electricity. Gobber looked outraged.

"He didn't!" he growled at Ragnar.

"He did," he said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude…"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," Astrid said, clenching her teeth in pain. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who was Muggle-born—you know, non-magic parents. There are some Vikings—like the Jorgenson clan—who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." She then experienced another jolt of electricity through her body. After she recovered, she added, "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Fishlegs—he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't shown anything that can stump our Ragnar," Gobber said proudly, making Ragnar turn slightly pink.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," Astrid said, her hands still shaking from all the shocks she was experiencing. "Dirty blood, see. C-Common blood. It's stupid. Most Vikings these days are half-blood anyway; if we hadn't married Muggles, we'd have died out centuries ago."

She panted hard, trying to rest after all electric shocks she had to deal with.

"Well, I don' blame yeh fer trying' to blast him, Astrid," Gobber said. "But maybe it was a good thing yer crystal eye backfired. ’Spect Spitelout the Stern would've come marchin' up to the academy if yeh’d blasted his son, even if Snotlout’s got his eye on yeh. Least yer not in any trouble."

Hiccup would have liked to point out that trouble didn't come much worse than getting hit by your own attack, but he couldn't: Gobber's treacle fudge had cemented his jaws together.

"Hiccup," Gobber said abruptly, as though struck by a sudden thought, "gotta bone to pick with yeh. I've heard yeh've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't gotten one?"

That comment gave Hiccup the strength to wrench his teeth apart.

"I have  _ not _ been giving out signed photos," he said, annoyed. "If Flashburn’s still putting that about—"

But then he saw that Gobber was laughing.

"I'm only joking, lad," he said, patting Hiccup on the back, which sent him flying face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Flashburn yeh didn't need to. Yer more famous than him without trying."

"Bet he didn't like that," Hiccup said, sitting up and rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," Gobber agreed, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided to go." Gobber then noticed Stormfly, who was poking her head through the window in order to check on her rider. "I see yeh've got yerself a Deadly Nadder, Astrid." 

"Yeah, her name is Stormfly," Astrid said weakly.

"She's a beauty," Gobber said.

Stormfly liked that comment; she straightened up proudly and tilted her head in Gobber’s direction.  _ "Oh, thank you! You have  _ **_very_ ** _ good taste!" _

Hiccup then looked at the photo again.

"Uh, Gobber, who are those other boys in the picture with you and my dad?" he asked.

Gobber looked uneasily at the photo.

"I don't like to talk about," Gobber said, sadly looking at the beefy boy next to his father, and then at the short, weakest-looking one. "Alvin and Savage…they’re both dead. As for Johann," he said, pointing at the shabby looking one, "I don't hear from him very often; he spends most of his time traveling from place to place, never stays in one place for very long."

"Why's that?" Ragnar asked.

"He finds it difficult to fit in with people," Gobber said. He then turned to look at Astrid. "Oh, Astrid, yer little brother came ‘round yesterday." Gobber looked sideways at Hiccup. "Said he wanted to explore the place, but I reckon he was hoping to bump into a certain someone at my house." He seemed to find it hard to keep a straight face. "If yeh ask me,  _ he _ wouldn't say no to a signed—"

"Well, no one asked you," Hiccup said, back to feeling annoyed.

Astrid chuckled a little, but then another jolt of electricity passed through her.

"I wouldn’t laugh if I were yeh, Astrid," Gobber said, his smile getting even bigger. "I think he hopes that yeh and Hiccup’ll get married."

If Astrid wasn't getting hit by random jolt of electricity, she probably would have punched Gobber in the face. Hiccup, meanwhile, was trying not to entertain that notion, pleasant as it was.

It was nearly lunchtime, and as Hiccup had had one bite of treacle fudge since dawn, he was keen to go back to the Great Hall to eat. They said goodbye to Gobber and after taking Toothless and Stormfly back to the stables, they walked back up to the mountain, Astrid still experiencing electric shocks. They weren’t as powerful as they were before, so she insisted on walking on her own, but Hiccup kept close to her, just in case.

"I’m  _ fine, _ Hiccup, don’t be so overprotective," Astrid grumbled. "Having to get carried off of the pitch was embarrassing enough; I don’t need to be coddled any more than that."

At that moment, another shock struck her,  _ just  _ strong enough to make her lose her balance as they entered the cool Entrance Hall.

Hiccup caught her with a surprising amount of ease. "You were saying, Milady?" he asked, staring down at her with one eyebrow raised.

Astrid glared at him, though with how heavily she was blushing it looked more like a pout than anything else. "Shut up."

Hiccup laughed, but before he could respond, a voice rang out. "There you are, Hiccup, Astrid." Phlegma the Fierce was walking towards them. "You will both be doing your detentions this evening."

"What are we doing, ma'am?" Astrid asked as Hiccup heaved her back onto solid ground.

_ "You _ will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mildew," Phlegma said.

Astrid groaned. Mildew the Unpleasant, the caretaker, was loathed by every single student in the academy.

"And you, Hiccup, will be helping Flashburn the Flashmaster answer his fan mail," Phlegma said.

"Oh gods—can't I go and help Astrid in the trophy room?" Hiccup asked desperately.

"I wish I could say otherwise, but no," Phlegma said. "Flashburn personally requested you in particular, Hiccup. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."

Hiccup and Astrid slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom. Ragnar was giving them a sympathetic look. Hiccup didn't fancy his shepherd's pie as much as he'd thought.

"Mildew will have me there all night," Astrid said heavily. "There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap any time," Hiccup said hollowly. "I've had loads of practice with the Dalvors. Answering Flashburn’s fan mail…he'll be a  _ nightmare…" _

"I’m not sure which of you got the worse deal," Ragnar said calmly, taking a bite out of his ham sandwich and pointedly ignoring the withering glares earned from his two friends.

Saturday afternoon suddenly seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time at all, it was five minutes to eight, and Hiccup was dragging his feet outside to Flashburn’s house. He gritted his teeth and knocked.

Almost at once, the door flew wide open. Flashburn beamed down at him.

"Ah, there's the scallywag!" he said. "Come in, Hiccup, come in."

Shining brightly on the walls by lights of many candles were countless framed photographs of Flashburn. He had even signed a few of them. Another pile lay on his desk.

"You can address the envelopes!" Flashburn told Hiccup, as though this was a huge treat. "Tell me Hiccup, can you possibly imagine a better way to serve detention than by helping me answer my fan mail?"

"Helping Astrid in the trophy room," Hiccup muttered bitterly, as he picked up a quill.

Thankfully, Flashburn didn’t hear it. "Fame is a fickle friend, Hiccup," he said, as he began to write. "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that."

"I'll try to."

Flashburn beamed. "Now, this first one’s to Gilly Waterson, bless her heart—very big fan of mine—"

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over many moving faces of Flashburn watching him. Hiccup slowly moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, his writing now barely legible.  _ "It must be nearly time to leave,"  _ he thought miserably, _ "please let it be nearly time…" _

And then he heard something—something quite apart from the spitting of dying candles and Flashburn’s prattling about his fans.

It was a voice to chill the bone-marrow; a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

_ "Come…come to me…let me rip you…let me tear you…let me kill you…" _

Hiccup gave a huge jump, and a large lilac blot appeared on the address he was writing.

_ "What?" _ he said loudly.

"I know!" Flashburn said. "Six solid months at the top of the bestseller list! I broke all sorts of records!"

"No," Hiccup said frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" Flashburn asked, looking puzzled, "What voice?"

"That—that voice that said—didn't you hear it?"

Flashburn was looking at Hiccup in high astonishment.

"What  _ are _ you talking about, Hiccup? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? By Thor's hammer—no wonder—look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! It's spooky how time flies when you're having fun."

"Yeah, spooky," Hiccup said, looking around for the source of the voice, but he found nothing.

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was empty. Hiccup’s bones felt too weary to make it up the steps to the boys’ dormitory, so he sat down on the sofa and used some of his magic to make the fire in the fireplace larger, his mind still racing.

Astrid entered a few minutes later, looking even more exhausted than him. "Ugh…"

"Rough night, huh?" Hiccup asked gently.

She sat beside him, moaning in pain and smelling strongly of polish. "Mildew must've made me clean the same trophies at least a hundred times! My muscles have all seized up; I won’t be able to lift my axe for a  _ week _ _._ How were things with Flashburn?"

Hiccup explained the weird voice he had heard, being careful to keep his voice down. The last thing they needed was someone overhearing and getting them in trouble.

"And Flashburn said he couldn't hear it?" Astrid asked, her aching arms seemingly forgotten. "I don't get it—even someone invisible would've had to open the door."

"I know," Hiccup said, glaring at the ceiling as though it was withholding the answers. "I don't get it either."

* * *

**OK so apparently my area is supposed to get hit by a tornado tonight. Sounds fun, huh?**

**Favorite line of chapter: "Hiccup, meanwhile, was trying not to entertain that notion, pleasant as it was."**

**(Y'know Hiccup, normally _girls_ are the ones who fantasize about marrying their crush)**

**I'm gonna go hide in a bathtub now. See you next Monday!**


	8. The Deathday Party

***Holds up a DMV Driver's Manual* This is officially the most boring thing I have ever read in my life. And I say that as someone who has read a cookbook! The written test is going to bloody _kill me..._**

**Anyways! Teenage milestones aside, this is going to be a fun chapter. Why?**

**Oh, you'll see...**

* * *

_Chapter Eight: The Deathday Party_

* * *

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the mountain. Bergljot the Helpful was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards. Astrid, who had been looking a bit peaky after her detention with Mildew, was pressured into going by her older brothers, and coaxed into actually taking the potion by Hiccup. The steam pouring out from under her golden blonde hair gave the impression that her head was on fire.

The gods must have been angry with someone at Berk, because raindrops the size of bullets pelted down on the mountains, so hard and so loud that from the inside it sounded like Ragnarok had begun. It rained relentlessly; the lake rose, the flowerbeds turned into muddy streams, and Gobber's forge was out of business until further notice. Eret’s enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, despite the fact that the lake was practically covering the stadium, which was what Hiccup was to find, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween. He had returned to Gryffindor tower drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

Even aside from the wind and rain (he had to pity whatever had upset the gods so much), it hadn't been a pleasant practice session. Double and Trouble, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed the new Nimbus Two Thousand and One saddles were giving their dragons. They reported that the Slytherin team all looked as though they were riding Night Furies themselves.

As Hiccup squelched along the deserted corridor, he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Njorthr, the Gryffindor house ghost, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering to himself, "…don't fulfil their requirements…half an inch, if that…"

"Hello, Njorthr," Hiccup said.

"Hello, hello," Nearly Headless Njorthr said, starting and looking round. He wore a dashing helmet over his long curly hair, and a tunic with a long neck, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and Hiccup could see right through him to the dark corridor ahead.

"You look troubled, young Hiccup," the ghost observed, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking inside his vest pocket.

"So do you," Hiccup said.

"Ah," Njorthr waved a hand, "a matter of no importance…it's not as though I _really_ wanted to join…thought I'd apply, just for the sake of it, but apparently I 'don't fulfil requirements'."

In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, "that getting hit _forty-five times_ in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Uh—yes, I would," Hiccup said, as he was obviously supposed to agree.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that my end would have been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However…" Njorthr shook his letter open and read aloud furiously:

_" We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have_ **_completely_ ** _parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Dragonback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfil our requirements. Sending my very best wishes—Podmore the Headless. "_

Fuming, the ghost stuffed the letter away again.

"Half an inch of skin and sinew is all that’s holding my neck on, young Hiccup! _Half an inch!_ Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh _no,_ it's not enough for the proud Podmore the Headless."

He took several deep breaths and finally said, in a somewhat calmer tone, "So—what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"

"No," Hiccup said. "Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and One saddles for our match against Sly—"

The rest of Hiccup's sentence was drowned by a low _baa_ from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himself gazing into what looked like a very fluffy cloud. Hiccup knew in an instant that this "fluffy cloud" was in fact Fungus, Mildew's beloved pet sheep, and a sort of deputy in his endless battle against the students of Berk.

"You should run, Hiccup," Njorthr said quickly, "Mildew isn't in his best mood right now. He's got the flu, and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five; he's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place—"

"Right," Hiccup said, backing away from Fungus, but not quickly enough. Mildew the Unpleasant, drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul sheep, burst through a tapestry to Hiccup's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick woolly scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

"Oh, perfect," Hiccup groaned.

"Look at this filth!" Mildew shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Hiccup's clothing. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, runt!"

Hiccup thought it was a bit rich, Mildew calling _him_ a runt when he himself was no taller than a fourth year, but as he was already in trouble, he decided not to point that out. So he bid Njorthr a gloomy goodbye, and followed Mildew through the passageway from which the old man had come.

Hiccup was glad they weren't going back outside, but he wasn't happy about entering Mildew's house. He had heard stories from Tuffnut and his twin sister Ruffnut about Mildew's place before, and as he entered he could definitely see why most of the students avoided it like the plague.

The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single dim lamp hanging from the ceiling. A foul smell came from a nearby cauldron, which Hiccup had no intent of investigating. Four portraits hung on the furthest wall; three of them were of three very ugly looking Valkyries, whilst the fourth one, easily the the most well-kept, was of Fungus, much to Hiccup’s disturbance. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls, and from their labels, Hiccup could see that they contained details of every pupil Mildew had ever punished. Double and Trouble Hofferson had an entire drawer to themselves, and from the looks of it the Thorston twins were starting to get one as well. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Mildew's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Alvis the Noble to let him suspend students from the ceiling by their ankles, as it had been done in the days of the school’s founders.

Mildew grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around, looking for parchment.

"Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies…frog brains…rat intestines…I've had enough of it…make an _example_ …where's the form…yes…"

He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.

_" Name_ …Hiccup Haddock… _Crime_ …"

"It was only a bit of mud!" Hiccup protested.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, runt, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" Mildew shouted, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. " _Crime_ …befouling the mountain… _suggested sentence_ …"

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Mildew squinted unpleasantly at Hiccup, who waited with bated breath for his sentence to fall.

But as Mildew lowered his quill with a wicked gleam in his eyes, there was a great BANG! coming from down the passage they'd just walked down.

"PEEVES!" Mildew roared, flinging down his quill in a moment of rage, "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"

And without a backwards glance at Hiccup, Mildew grabbed his staff and ran down the passageway, Fungus trotting alongside him.

Peeves was the academy's poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace that lived (or _had_ lived, anyway) to cause havoc and distress. Hiccup didn't like Peeves very much, but he couldn't help but feel grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Mildew from Hiccup.

Thinking that he should probably wait for Mildew to come back, Hiccup sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the passage door to make sure that Mildew wasn't already on his way back, Hiccup picked up the envelope and read:

**_KWIKSPELL_ **

**_A Correspondence Course in_ **

**_Beginners' Magic_ **

Intrigued, Hiccup opened the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside. More curly silver writing on the front page said:

**Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful handwork?**

**_There is an answer!_ **

**Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of Viking and Valkyries have benefited from the Kwikspell method!**

**Nettles the Dismal of Topsham writes:**

**"I had no memory for battle techniques, and my potions were the family joke! Now, after a Kwiskspell course, I am the center of attention at parties, and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"**

**Prod the Weak of Didsbury says:**

**"My wife used to sneer at my feeble water magic, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course, I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"**

Fascinated, Hiccup thumbed through the rest of the envelope's contents. Why on Midgard did Mildew want a Kwikspell course? Did this mean he wasn't a proper Viking? Hiccup was just reading "Lesson One: Placing Your Crystal Eye In Its Slot (Some Useful Tips)" when shuffling footsteps coming down the passageway told him Mildew was coming back. Hiccup stuffed the parchment back into the envelope and threw it back onto the desk just as Mildew, who looked triumphant, walked in.

"That statue was extremely valuable!" he was saying gleefully to Fungus. "We'll have Peeves out this time, Fungus."

His eyes fell on Hiccup and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope which, Hiccup realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started.

Mildew's ugly, pasty face went brick red. Hiccup took a step back, bracing himself for a tidal wave of fury. Mildew hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope and threw it into a drawer.

"Have you—did you read—?" he spluttered.

"No," Hiccup lied quickly.

Mildew knobby hands were twisting together.

"If I thought you'd read my private…not that it's mine…for a friend…well, be that as it may…however…"

Hiccup was staring at him, alarmed; Mildew had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks and the tartan scarf didn't help.

"Very well…get out…and don't breathe a word about this…ahem, not that…however, if you didn't read…go now, I have to write up Peeves' report…go…"

Amazed at his luck, Hiccup sped out of the office, up the corridor and back upstairs. To escape from Mildew's house without punishment was probably some kind of academy record.

"Hiccup, Hiccup! Did it work?"

Nearly Headless Njorthr glided out of a wall. Next to him, Hiccup could see the wreckage of a large statue which appeared to have been dropped from a great height.

"I persuaded Peeves to crash it outside the passageway to Mildew's house," Njorthr explained eagerly, "Thought it might distract him—"

"Was that you?" Hiccup said gratefully. "Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thank you, Njorthr!"

They set off up the corridor together. Njorthr, Hiccup noticed, was still holding Podmore the Headless' rejection letter.

"I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt," Hiccup said.

The ghost stopped in his tracks, and Hiccup walked right through him. He wished he hadn't; it was like stepping through an ice cold shower, and he was already freezing as it was.

"But there _is_ something you could do for me," Njorthr said excitedly. "Hiccup—would I be asking too much—but no, no, you wouldn't want—"

"What is it?" Hiccup asked.

"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday," Njorthr said, drawing himself up and looked very dignified.

"Oh," Hiccup said. He wasn't sure whether he should either look sorry or happy about this news. "Right, I understand."

"I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an _honor_ if you would attend, Miss Hofferson and Mr Wicket would be most welcome too, of course—but I daresay you'd rather go to the academy feast?" He watched Hiccup on tenterhooks.

"No," Hiccup said quickly, "I'll come—"

"Thank you, my dear boy! Hiccup Haddock, at my Deathday Party! And," he hesitated, looking excited, "do you think you could _possibly_ mention to Podmore how _very_ frightening and impressive you find me?"

"Of—of course," Hiccup said.

Njorthr beamed at him.

* * *

"You’re going to a Deathday Party?" Ragnar asked curiously, when Hiccup had changed at last and joined him and Astrid in the common room. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those—it'll be fascinating!"

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" Astrid asked. She was halfway through her Potions homework, and already very grumpy. "Sounds _dead_ depressing to me…"

Ragnar mimed hitting her with a book. "That was bad and you should feel bad."

Laughing, Hiccup glanced over Astrid’s current work. Nothing was done wrong yet, much to his relief. "I don’t know what you’re worked up about, Astrid, you’re doing fine; nothing’s inaccurate so far."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

Rain was still hitting the mountain walls, but it seemed to have lightened a bit. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Double and Trouble Hofferson, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster Firework to a young Monstrous Nightmare. Double had "rescued" the bright-yellow dragon from the stables and it had just escaped up the chimney, with accompanying explosions. The sight made the three friends start laughing, driving both Mildew and the Kwikspell envelope from Hiccup's mind.

* * *

By the time Halloween had arrived, Hiccup was starting to regret his rash promise to go to the Deathday Party. The rest of the academy were happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, vast pumpkins grown by Bucket and Mulch were carved into lanterns large enough for three Viking men to sit in, and there were rumors that Alvis the Noble had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

"You could tell Njorthr that you've changed your mind," Astrid said hopefully.

"I owe him a favor for getting me out of trouble from Mildew," Hiccup reminded her.

So at seven o'clock, Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering quite invitingly with gold plates and torches, and directed their steps instead towards the dungeon.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Njorthr’s party had been lined with torches too, though the effect was far from cheerful: there were long, thin, jet-black torch handles, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own loving faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took. Hiccup had to create one of his portable flames to keep them warm and then they heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"Is that supposed to be _music?_ " Astrid hissed; she looked like she was fighting the urge to cover her ears.

They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Njorthr standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully, "Welcome, welcome…so pleased you could come…"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Astrid muttered.

Njorthr swept off his dashing helmet and bowed them inside.

It was, for lack of a better word, an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight blue with a thousand black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.

"Shall we have a look around?" Hiccup suggested, wanting to warm up his feet.

"Careful not to walk through anyone," Astrid said nervously, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor.

They passed group of gloomy Valkyries, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Elder, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to Viking soldier with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Hiccup wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Viking, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by other ghosts.

"Oh no," Astrid said, stopping abruptly, "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Myrtle the Moaning —"

"Who’s Myrtle the Moaning?" Hiccup asked, as they backtracked quickly.

"She haunts the girls' toilet on the first floor," Astrid said, her head unconsciously shaking.

"She haunts a _toilet?_ "

"Yes. It's been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to go to the loo with her wailing at you."

"I thought you didn’t fear anything," Ragnar said, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

Astrid glared at him. "It's very hard to argue with a ghost, especially with one that likes to jump out of the toilet whenever she likes," she said angrily.

Ragnar was silent and then he looked at the table behind her. "Look, food!" he said quickly.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. This brought Astrid's attention away from Ragnar and the three of them approached it eagerly, but they just as quickly stopped in their tracks, horrified.

The stench was atrocious. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in fuzzy green mold and, in pride of place an enormous grey cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming words,

_Nearly Headless Njorthr_

_Died on the 31st of October, 1515_

Hiccup watched, amazed, as portly ghost approached the table, crouched low and walked through it, his mouth held open wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Hiccup asked him.

"Almost," the ghost said sadly, and he drifted away without another word.

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," Ragnar mused, pinching his nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"I think I’m going to be sick," Astrid said, indeed looking quite ill. "Let’s move, quick."

They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in mid-air before them.

"Hello Peeves," Hiccup said, feeling cautious.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing bright orange party helmet, a revolving brooch, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

"Nibbles?" he asked sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

"No thanks," Astrid said.

"Heard you talking about Myrtle, lass," Peeves said, his eyes dancing, " _Rude_ you was about poor Myrtle." He smiled, took a deep breath and bellowed. "OI, MYRTLE DARLING, COME OVER HERE!"

"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," Astrid whispered frantically. The look of fear on her face sent shivers down Hiccup’s spine. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her—uh, h-hello, Myrtle."

The squat ghost of a girl glided over. She had the glummest face Hiccup had ever seen, half-hidden behind hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

"What?" she asked sulkily.

"How are you, Myrtle?" Astrid said, in a falsely bright voice. "It's so nice to see you out of the toilet."

Myrtle sniffed.

"Miss Hofferson was just talking about you—" Peeves said slyly in Myrtle's ear.

"Just saying—saying—how nice you look tonight," Astrid said, glaring at Peeves.

Myrtle eyed Astrid suspiciously.

"You're making fun of me," she accused, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.

"No—honestly—didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" Astrid asked, nudging Hiccup and Ragnar painfully in the ribs.

"Oh, yeah…"

"She did…"

"Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder, "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable moaning, moping Myrtle!"

"You've missed out 'spotty'," Peeves hissed in her ear.

Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, pelting her with moldy peanuts, yelling, " _Spotty, spotty!_ "

"She’s very sensitive," Ragnar observed.

Astrid sighed. "That’s putting it mildly."

Nearly Headless Njorthr now drifted towards them through the crowd.

"Enjoying yourselves, children?"

"Oh yes," they lied in unison.

"Not a bad turnout," Njorthr observed proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent…It's nearly time for my speech; I'd better go and alert the orchestra…"

The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.

"Oh, here we go," Njorthr muttered bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost dragons, each ridden by a headless rider. The assembly clapped wildly; Hiccup started to clap too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Njorthr’s face.

Astrid stared at the dragons, her expression a mixture of shock and hatred. Hiccup looked closer and saw that the dragons the ghosts were riding weren't ghosts at all. They were solid, but they glowed in a ghostly blue. They looked like a mix between a Night fury and a Skrill. Maybe they were.

Hiccup looked at Astrid and said, "Are those—"

"Flightmares?!" she whispered bitterly. "Yes, they are."

The dragons flew into the middle of the dance floor and landed; a large ghost at the front, whose bearded head was under his arm, blowing the horn, hopped of his Flightmare, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed) and strode over to Nearly Headless Njorthr, squashing his head back onto his neck.

"Njorthr!" he roared, "How are you? Is your head still hanging in there?"

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Njorthr on the shoulder.

"Welcome, Podmore," Njorthr said stiffly.

"Live 'uns!" Podmore said, spotting Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar standing at Njorthr’s side. He gave a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again. The crowd howled with laughter once more.

"Very amusing," Nearly Headless Njorthr said darkly.

"Don't mind Njorthr here!" Podmore's head shouted from the floor, "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say—look at the fellow—"

"I think," Hiccup said hurriedly at a meaningful look from Njorthr, "that Njorthr's very—frightening and—uh—"

"Ha!" Podmore's head yelled, "bet he _asked_ you to say that!"

Astrid then walked up to Podmore's head with a very angry look on her face and said, "You have very bad taste when it comes to dragons."

"Bad taste?" Podmore asked, giving her a puzzled look. "Flightmare's are the only dragon that ghost can ride upon, my dear living lass."

"Her uncle was killed by one," Hiccup explained quickly, gently tugging the girl away before she could insult the ghosts any further.

"Oh" was all Podmore's head said.

"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" Nearly Headless Njorthr said loudly, striding towards the podium and climbing into an icy blue spotlight.

"My late lamented chiefs, fair ladies and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…"

But nobody heard much more. Podmore and the rest of the Headless Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd of ghosts was turning to watch. Nearly Headless Njorthr tried in vain to recapture his audience, but gave up as Podmore's head went sailing past him to loud cheers.

Even with the largest ball of fire he could contain in his hand, Hiccup was very cold, not to mention hungry.

"I can't stand much more of this," Astrid muttered, her teeth chattering, as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.

"Let's go," Hiccup agreed, instantly moving the fire closer to her in an attempt to warm her up.

They backed towards the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked their way, and a minute later they were hurrying back up the passageway full of black touches.

"Pudding might not be finished yet," Astrid said hopefully, leading the way towards the steps to the Main Hall.

And that’s when Hiccup heard it.

"… _rip…tear…kill…_ "

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Flashburn's house.

He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Hiccup, what're you—?"

"It's that voice again—shut up a minute—"

"… _so hungry… for so long…_ "

"Listen!" Hiccup said urgently. Astrid and Ragnar froze, watching him.

"… _kill…time to kill…_ "

"Hiccup, I don’t hear—" Ragnar started to say. But at that moment, Astrid grabbed a hold of his wrist and forcefully turned him to look at her. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and shock.

"I-I heard it…Rag, _I heard someone talking…"_

The voice was growing fainter. Hiccup was sure it was moving away—moving upwards. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upwards? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

"This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs and into the Main Hall.

It was no good hoping to hear anything here; the babble of talk from the Halloween Feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Hiccup sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Astrid right beside him and Ragnar struggling to keep up.

"Guys, what are we—"

"SHH!"

Hiccup and Astrid strained their ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, they heard the voice: " _…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!_ "

Hiccup’s stomach lurched. "It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring Ragnar's confused face, he and Astrid ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over their footsteps.

They hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ragnar panting behind them, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Hiccup, Astrid, what in the name of _Thor_ was that all about?" Ragnar asked, looking bewildered. "I couldn't hear anything…"

"I think we've got other problems," Astrid whispered, pointing down the corridor.

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached, slowly squinting through the darkness. Foot high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.**

**ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.**

"That's not the worst of it," Ragnar said.

He was right, as they edged nearer, Hiccup almost slipped and fell: there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Astrid and Ragnar grabbed him, and they inched towards the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backwards with a splash.

Fungus, Mildew's pet sheep, was hanging by a rope around on of his feet from the torch bracket. He was stiff as a board, his eyes wide and staring blankly.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ragnar said, "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help—" Hiccup began awkwardly.

"Trust me," Ragnar said, "We don't want to be found here."

"Yeah, I think we're too late for that," Astrid said.

She was right. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the Feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging sheep. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students, pressing forwards to see the grisly sight.

"Great, just perfect," Hiccup moaned.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Snotlout, of course. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his face flushed in victory as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile sheep.

* * *

**That's a very odd thing to grin at.**

**So Astrid can hear the voice! How? Why? All shall be revealed in due time.** **(translation: explanation is not in this book)**

**Favorite line of chapter: "His eyes fell on Hiccup and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope which, Hiccup realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started."**

**(You had _one job,_ Hiccup)**

**Any suggestions for what I should do in future chapters/books? Feel free to let me know; I'll probably use it. Credit is always given.**

**See ya next Monday!**


	9. The Writing on the Wall

**When we left off with our heroes, they were caught standing in a flooded corridor with a seemingly-dead sheep hanging from a torch bracket right above their heads.**

**This can only end so well.**

* * *

_Chapter Nine: The Writing on the Wall_

* * *

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

No doubt attracted to the spot by Snotlout's gleeful shout, Mildew the Unpleasant came shouldering his way through the crowd. When he saw Fungus’s body hanging there, he fell backwards, his eyes wide with horror.

"Fungus!" he shrieked. "What's happened to my Fungus?!"

His popping eyes fell on Hiccup’s rigid form.

_"You!"_ he screeched, _"You've murdered my Fungus!_ You've killed him!" He started towards Hiccup with his staff raised. "I'll kill you, runt! I'll—"

_"Mildew!"_

Alvis the Noble had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar and detached Fungus from the torch bracket.

He then looked at the crowd of students. "Everyone return to your dormitories at once, expect…" he pointed at Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar, "you three."

Once all of the other students were gone, Alvis laid Fungus on the ground and began to examine him carefully. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar exchanged tense looks, each worried about what was going to happen to them next.

Alvis was looking at Fungus even closer, gently poking and prodding him with his one good hand. Phlegma got in close to see Fungus, and from the nervous look on her face, it wasn't good. Asketill loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a very peculiar expression; it looked to Hiccup that he was doing his best to not smile. And Flashburn was hovering around all of them, making largely unhelpful suggestions.

"It was certainly some kind of Lightning Magic that killed poor Fungus—perhaps the old Lightning Spear technique—I've seen it used against innocents so many times, you wouldn’t believe—it’s so unlucky that I wasn't there; I know the very counter-move that would have saved him…"

Flashburn’s comments were punctuated by Mildew's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped forwards, using his staff as support, unable to so much as look at Fungus’s lifeless form. As much as he detested Mildew, Hiccup couldn't help feeling sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself and his friends. If Alvis believed Mildew, they would be expelled for sure.

Alvis was now trying to send an electric charge through Fungus. He waved his crystal eye, which was imbedded deeply in his axe prosthetic, over the sheep several times, but nothing happened; Fungus continued to look as though he had been recently stuffed.

"…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," Flashburn rambled on, "a series of attacks, the full story is in my autobiography. I was fortunately able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets; they cleared the matter up at once…"

At last Alvis straightened up.

"He's not dead, Mildew," he said softly.

Flashburn stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of terrible murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" Mildew choked, straightening up to look at Fungus, "But then why is he all—all stiff and frozen?"

"He has been Petrified," Alvis said ("Ah! I thought so!" Flashburn said), "But how, I’m afraid I cannot say…"

"Ask _him!"_ Mildew shrieked, turning his ugly, tear-stained face to Hiccup.

"No second year could have done this," Alvis stated firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—"

"He did it!" Mildew spat, his ugly face purpling, "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found—in my house—he knows I'm a—I'm a—" Mildew's face worked horribly, "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"I never _touched_ Fungus!" Hiccup said loudly, uncomfortably aware of how everyone was looking at him. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."

"Dragon dung!" Mildew snarled. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," Asketill said from the shadows. Hiccup’s sense of foreboding increased rapidly; he was sure nothing Asketill had to say was going to do him any good.

"Haddock and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he sincerely doubted it, "But the fact remains that we have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at the Halloween feast?"

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar all launched into an explanation about the Deathday party, "…there were hundreds of ghosts, and they’ll tell you we were there—"

"But why not join the feast afterwards?" Asketill asked, his black eyes glittering in the torchlight. "Why go up that corridor?"

Astrid and Ragnar looked at Hiccup.

"Because—because—" Hiccup said, his heart thumping very fast; something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them he had been led by a bodiless voice no one but he and Astrid could hear.

Thankfully, Astrid stepped forward.  "Because we were all tired and we wanted to go to bed," she said.

"Without any supper?" Asketill said, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "Ghosts aren’t known for providing food fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't very hungry," Hiccup lied, trying to ignore the rumbling in his stomach that clearly begged to differ.

Astrid nodded and added, "The smell at the party kind of ruined our appetites."

Hiccup could tell from looking at Asketill’s eyes that he didn't believe them. He was even more sure when Asketill gave him a nasty wide smile.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Haddock and Miss Hofferson are not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea to deprive them of certain privileges until they are ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel Haddock should be taken off the Gryffindor Dragon Racing team until he is ready to be honest."

"Really, Asketill," Phlegma said fiercely, "I see no reason to stop the boy from playing Dragon Racing. I don't see his Night Fury anywhere, or Miss Hofferson’s Deadly Nadder, or any dragon at all for that matter. Nor is there any evidence at all that Hiccup and his friends have done anything wrong."

Alvis was giving the three friends a searching look. His twinkling, light blue gaze made Hiccup feel as though he was being X-rayed.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Asketill," he said at last, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Asketill looked furious. So did Mildew.

"My Fungus has been petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some kind of _punishment!_ "

"We will be able to cure him, Mildew," Alvis said patiently, "Eydis recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made which will revive Fungus."

"I'll make it," Flashburn butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times; I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my _sleep—"_

"Excuse me," Asketill said icily. "But I believe _I_ am the Potions master at this academy."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go," Alvis said to Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar.

They went as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor up from the crime scene, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Hiccup squinted at his friends' darkened faces.

"Do you think I should have told them about the voice?"

"No," Astrid said without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't good, even in the Viking world."

Something in Astrid's voice compelled Hiccup to ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Astrid said, her voice unnaturally gentle. "Helheim, Hiccup, _I_ heard it too. But—you have to admit that it's weird, even for us…"

"That's not helping," Hiccup said. "The whole _thing_ is weird. What was that writing on the wall about? _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened_ …what's that supposed to mean?"

"I've heard about it before," Astrid said slowly. "Someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Berk once…might've been Hakon…"

"And what on Midgard is a _Squib?"_ Hiccup asked.

To his surprise, Astrid stifled a laugh.

"Well—it's not funny really—but as its Mildew…" she said slowly, "A Squib is someone who was born into a Viking family, but hasn't got any magic powers. They’re kind of the opposite of Muggle-born Vikings, but Squibs are really unusual. If Mildew's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Astrid gave a satisfied smile. "He's bitter."

"And it does explain why he's never used a single bit of magic," Ragnar added, looking like he was doing his best to keep a straight face.

A clock chimed somewhere.

"Midnight," Hiccup said. "We'd better get to bed before Asketill and Mildew come along and try to frame us for doing something else."

* * *

For a few days, the academy could talk of little but the attack on Fungus. Mildew kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where the sheep had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might be stupid enough to come back. Hiccup had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with "Sparkshower the Clean's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover", but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone.

When Mildew wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy".

Egill Hofferson seemed very disturbed by Fungus's fate. According to Astrid, he was a great sheep-lover.

"But you hadn't really gotten to _know_ Fungus," Astrid told him bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without him."

Egill looked terrified.

"Stuff like this doesn't usually happen at Berk," Astrid assured him. "They'll catch the guy who did it and have him out of here in no time, don’t worry."

The attack had also had an effect on Ragnar. It was normal for Ragnar to spend a lot of time reading and studying, but he was now doing almost nothing else; it had gotten to the point where Hiccup nearly had to drag his best friend to the Great Hall so that he could eat something. Neither Hiccup nor Astrid could get much of a response from Ragnar when they asked what he was up to, and it was not until the following Wednesday that they found out.

Hiccup had been held back in Potions, where Asketill had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off of the desks. After a hurried lunch, he went upstairs to meet Astrid in the library, and saw Hardbottom Highhat, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming towards him. Hiccup had just opened his mouth to say hello when Hardbottom caught sight of him, turned abruptly and sped off in the opposite direction.

Hiccup found Astrid at the back of the library, measuring her History of Magic homework. Bruadar the Sleep-inducing had asked for a three foot long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Vikings".

"I don't believe it; I'm still _eight inches_ short…" Astrid said furiously, letting go of her parchment, which sprang back into a roll, "I still don't get how Ragnar is able to do four feet seven inches in his _neat_ handwriting."

"Where is he, anyway?" Hiccup asked, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.

"Somewhere over there," Astrid said, pointing along the shelves, "Looking for yet another book. I think he's trying to read the whole library before Snoggletog."

Hiccup told Astrid about Hardbottom Highhat running away from him.

"I wouldn't worry about him," Astrid said, scribbling away, making her handwriting as large as possible. "Honestly, with all that talk of how great Flashburn is, he sounds like a right idiot to me."

"How sweet of you, Milady," Hiccup deadpanned, satisfied that he had done three inches more than the recommended three foot long composition.

Astrid stuck out her tongue. "Shut up."

Ragnar emerged from between the bookshelves. He looked irritable and at last seemed ready to talk to them.

_"All_ the copies of _A History of Dragons_ have been taken out," he said, sitting down next to Hiccup and Astrid with a groan. "And there's a two week waiting list. I _wish_ I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all those stupid Flashburn books."

"Why do you want it?" Hiccup asked.

"The same reason everyone else wants it," Ragnar said, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What's that?" Hiccup asked curiously.

"I don't know. Why do you think I want to look it up?" Ragnar said, rolling his eyes. "And I can't find the story anywhere else…"

"Ragnar, let me read your composition,"Astrid said suddenly, checking her watch.

"You know I can’t do that, Astrid," Ragnar said, his expression becoming severe. "That’s cheating. Besides, you’ve had ten days to finish it, that should have been plenty of time—"

"I only need another two inches, come on—"

"Here," Hiccup said, tossing Astrid his homework. "Try not to make it look like you copied off of mine."

Ragnar glared at him, but it was worth it to see Astrid shoot him a relieved smile.

The bell rang just as Astrid finished her now three-foot long composition. "I owe you," she said, giving Hiccup his homework back.

"He shouldn’t have done that," Ragnar grumbled as they made their way to their next class. "You shouldn’t be depending on Hiccup to do your work for you, Astrid."

"I only needed the two extra inches," Astrid said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Hiccup nodded. "It’s _History of Magic,_ Rag, relax."

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their timetable. Bruadar the Sleep-inducing, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his class was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people claimed he hadn't even noticed that he was dead. He had simply gotten up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire. His routine had not varied in the slightest ever since.

Today was as boring as ever. Bruadar opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone that sounded like an old vacuum cleaner. Before long, nearly everyone in the class was in deep stupor, occasionally coming round long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. Hiccup was trying his best to pay attention, but between the boring lesson and Astrid snoring with her head on his shoulder, it was nearly impossible.

Bruadar had been speaking for about half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Ragnar put up his hand.

Bruadar, glancing up in middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Berserkers Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Mr—uh—what is your name?"

"It’s Ragnar, sir, Ragnar Wicket. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," Ragnar said in a clear voice.

Hiccup gently nudged Astrid awake; Tuffnut and Ruffnut, who both had been playing paper football with each other, turned around to look; Agatha Berdis's head came up off her arms; and Fishlegs stared at Ragnar in amazement.

Bruadar blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with _facts_ , Mr Wicket, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued, "In September of that year, a sub-committee of Sardinian warriors—"

Astrid sat up straight, a determined glint in her eyes. "But don’t most legends have a basis in fact?"

Bruadar froze. So did most of the class. Ragnar asking a question in class was one thing. For _Astrid_ to try and do it was simply unheard of.

_"Well…"_ Bruadar said slowly, "Yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Astrid as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you and Mister Wicket speak is such a very _sensational_ , even _ludicrous_ tale…"

But the whole class was now hanging on Bruadar’s every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Hiccup could tell he was completely thrown off by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see…the Chamber of Secrets…

"As you all know, when Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the first, or Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror, as he is often referred to today, brought peace to our world over a thousand years ago—the precise date is uncertain—after which he trained four very skilled Viking and Valkyries, who would later become the founders of Berk, which was named after Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror’s homeland. The four academy houses are named after them: Gryffindor the Courageous, Hufflepuff the Loyal, Ravenclaw the Wise, and Slytherin the Cunning. They, alongside Valhallarama the Dependable, Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror’s eldest child and only daughter, carved the academy into this very mountain together, far from the prying eyes of Muggles, for it was an age when both magic and dragons were still feared by common people, and they were afraid that another war could happen if they weren’t careful."

He paused, gazing blearily around the room, and continued, "For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and showed the ability to bond with dragons. Valhallarama would find them and bring them to this island, where the founders would train them the same way Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror had trained them.

"Each of the founders took students under their wing that had qualities that they admired most; Gryffindor took those with courage and those with strong wills; Hufflepuff took in the most loyal and the hardest working students; Ravenclaw took in the most intelligent and creative students; and Slytherin took in the most resourceful and those with great determination. Alongside finding and caring for the students, Valhallarama raised the baby dragons, and she looked after the Fort.

"But then disagreements sprang up. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. You see, Slytherin wished to be more _selective_ about the students admitted to Berk. He believed that magical learning and the ability to bond with dragons should be kept within all-magic Viking clans. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the academy."

Bruadar paused again, pursing his lips. He looked remarkably like a wrinkled old Gronckle.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said, "but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the mountain, of which the others founders knew nothing. It was shown only to Valhallarama, of whom Slytherin desired as his wife.

"Slytherin, according to legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the academy. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the academy of all who were, in Slytherin’s view, unworthy to study magic or bond with dragons."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Bruadar’s classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Bruadar looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the academy has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned Vikings and Valkyries. It does not exist. A tale told by a bitter Valhallarama to frighten her gullible child that got out of hand."

Ragnar's hand was back in the air.

"Sir—what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"It is believed to be some sort of rare and monstrous dragon, which the heir of Slytherin alone can control," Bruadar said in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks, apart from Tuffnut and Ruffnut, who looked rather excited about the fact that a dangerous dragon was roaming through the academy.

"That sounds awesome!" Tuffnut yelled.

"So cool!" Ruffnut agreed.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," Bruadar said, shuffling his notes. "There is not Chamber and no monstrous dragon."

"But, sir," Astrid said; one of her hands had found Hiccup’s arm, and was holding it in a death grip, "If the Chamber can only opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else _would_ be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, Miss Hofferson," Bruadar said in an aggravated tone, "if a long succession of Berk's headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing—"

"But, sir," Maria Stonefoot piped up, "you've probably got to use Dark Magic to open it—"

"Just because a Viking _doesn't_ use Dark Magic, doesn't mean he _can't_ , Miss Stonefoot," Bruadar snapped. "I repeat, if the likes of Alvis—"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Alvis couldn't—" Hiccup began, but Bruadar had finally had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom closet! I regret telling you all such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to _history_ , to solid, believable, verifiable _fact_!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual stupor.

* * *

"I always knew Slytherin the Cunning was a creepy guy," Astrid told Hiccup and Ragnar, as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their satchels and books before dinner. "But I never realized he was the one that started all this pureblood nonsense. I wouldn't be in his house if you _paid_ me. Honestly, if the Sorting Helmet had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd have gotten on the first train straight back home…"

"You and me both," Ragnar said.

Hiccup didn't speak. His stomach had just dropped unpleasantly.

Hiccup had never told Astrid and Ragnar that the Sorting Helmet had considered putting _him_ in Slytherin. He could remember, as though it was yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he'd placed the helmet on his head a year before.

_"Not Slytherin, eh? But are you sure? I have to admit, you would do great there …"_

But Hiccup, who had already heard of Slytherin house's reputation for turning out crazed Vikings, had thought desperately, "Not Slytherin!" and the helmet had said, _"No? Well then, dragon boy, I'd say you'll fit just fine in…GRYFFINDOR!"_

As they were shunted along in the throng, Gustav Larson went past.

"Hiya, Hiccup!"

"Hello, Gustav," Hiccup said automatically.

"Hiccup—Hiccup—a boy in my class has been saying you're—"

But Gustav was so small he couldn't fight against the tide of people bearing him towards the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, "See you, Hiccup!" and he was gone.

"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" Ragnar wondered.

"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," Hiccup said, his stomach dropping another inch or so, as he suddenly remembered the way Hardbottom Highhat had run away from him in the library. "After all, Slytherin the Cunning wanted my ancestor’s daughter to be his wife, and she had a child without getting married…"

"People here'll believe anything," Astrid said in disgust.

The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

"Do you _really_ think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Hiccup asked them.

"I don't know," Ragnar said, frowning. "Alvis couldn't cure Fungus, and that makes me think that whatever attacked him might not be— _well_ —human. And did you see the look on Phlegma’s face? It was almost like she'd seen something like this before."

As he spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had occurred. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff sheep hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened."

"That's where Mildew has been keeping guard," Astrid muttered.

They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a look around," Hiccup said, dropping his satchel and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he said, "Here…and here…but I can't tell what type of dragon made them."

"There was water on the floor as well," Ragnar reminded him. "I wonder where it came from."

"I think I know," Astrid said grimly. She walked past Mildew's chair and walked up to a door. She then turned the doorknob and opened it. She looked at Hiccup and Ragnar, rolled her eyes and said, "Well come on."

"We can't go in there," Ragnar said gruffly, though his face was tinged bright pink, "that's a girls' toilet."

"Don't worry about that," Astrid assured him. "This is Myrtle the Moaning's place—no one comes in here if they can help it. Come on, let's have a look."

And ignoring the large "Out of Order" sign, she walked into the toilet and the two of them reluctantly followed her.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Hiccup had ever set foot in, not that he'd stepped into many girls' toilets. Under a large, cracked and spotted mirror were a row of chipped, stone sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the cubicles were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Astrid put a finger to her lips and set off towards the end cubicle. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

Hiccup and Ragnar went to look. Myrtle the Moaning was floating on the cistern of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"This is a _girls'_ bathroom," she said, eyeing Ragnar and Hiccup suspiciously, " _They're_ not girls."

"No," Astrid agreed, "I just wanted to show them how—uh—nice it is in here."

She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.

"Ask her if she saw anything," Hiccup mouthed at Astrid.

"What are you whispering?" Myrtle said, staring at him.

"Nothing," Hiccup said quickly. "We wanted to ask—"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" Myrtle said in a voice choked with tears, "I _do_ have feelings, you know, even if I _am_ dead."

"Myrtle, Hiccup is nothing like that, and no one wants to upset you," Astrid said calmly, "He only—"

"No one wants to upset me! That’s a good one!" Myrtle howled. "My life was nothing but misery at this place! Only one person was ever nice to me, and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you'd seen anything funny lately," Astrid said quickly, "Because a sheep was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" Hiccup asked.

"I wasn't paying attention," Myrtle said dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to _kill_ myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I—that I'm—"

"You’re already dead?" Ragnar put in helpfully.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and launched herself head first into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight; from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Hiccup and Ragnar stood with mouths open, but Astrid shrugged wearily and said, "That's almost cheerful for Myrtle…come on, let's go."

Hiccup had barely closed the door on Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice made all three of them jump.

"ASTRID KATLA HOFFERSON!"

Askeladden Hofferson had stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, and an expression of complete mortification on his face.

"What were you three doing in there?" he asked.

"Just having a look around," Astrid shrugged. "Clues, you know…"

Askeladden swelled in a manner that reminded Hiccup rather strongly of Mrs. Hofferson.

"Get—away—from—there—" he said, striding towards them and starting to bustle them along, flapping his arms. "Don't you _care_ what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner…"

"Why shouldn't we be here?" Astrid asked angrily, stopping short and shooting Askeladden one of her infamous death glares. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that sheep!"

"That's what I told Egill," Askeladden said, his eye twitching violently, "but he still seems to think you're going to be expelled. I've never seen him so upset; he was crying his eyes out. You might think of _him_ , all the first years are thoroughly over-excited by this foolish business—"

_"You_ don't care about Egill," Astrid hissed. Her temper seemed to have reached brand new heights; Hiccup vaguely wondered if he might have to hold her back. _"You're_ just worried that I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy. You’re not fooling anyone, Askeladden. I know for a fact that you’re embarrassed by us; Dad, Double, Trouble, and especially me. Sometimes you pretend we’re not even related to you!"

"That's not true Astrid," Askeladden said firmly. "I'll let you off with a warning, but if I see you bring boys into girls' toilets again, or break any other academy rules, you'll get detention! So no more _detective work_ , or I'll write to Mum!"

And he strode off, the back of his neck almost as red as Astrid's face.

* * *

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar chose seats as far away from Askeladden as possible in the common room that night. Astrid was still in a very bad temper, and kept blotting her Charms homework. When she reached absentmindedly for her crystal eye to remove the smudges, it ignited the parchment.

(Wermond the Eye-giver hadn’t shown up yet, much to Hiccup’s frustration)

Astrid, fuming almost as much as her homework, slammed _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ shut. To Hiccup's surprise, Ragnar followed suit.

"Who can it be, though?" he said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation they had just been having. "Who'd _want_ all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Berk?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Astrid scoffed. "Who do we know who thinks all Muggle-borns are scum?"

She looked at Ragnar. Ragnar looked back, unconvinced.

"If you're talking about Snotlout—"

"Of course I am!" Astrid said. "You heard him: ' _You'll be next, Mudbloods!_ ' Come on, you've only got to look as his foul rat face to know it's him—"

"Snotlout, the Heir of Slytherin?" Ragnar said skeptically.

"Astrid could be right, Rag," Hiccup said, closing his books, too. "Just look at his family; they've been in Slytherin for generations, he's always boasting about that. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" Astrid said, "Handing it down, father to son, like it’s some sort of inheritance…"

"It's a sound theory, but we have no proof," Ragnar reminded them.

"Can't you tell or something with your Aura Magic?" Hiccup asked.

"At the moment I can only sense if people are around, I haven't learned to tell if they’re telling the truth," Ragnar said. Both Hiccup and Astrid looked downhearted, but Ragnar then added, "There might be a way. Of course, it would be difficult. And it’s dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty academy rules, I expect."

"As if that stopped us last year," Astrid said, rolling her eyes.

"Fine," Ragnar said. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Snotlout a few questions without him realizing it's us."

"But that's impossible," Hiccup said. Astrid nodded in agreement.

"No it's not," Ragnar said. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

"What's that?" Astrid and Hiccup asked together.

"Asketill mentioned it in class a few weeks ago. Apparently, it can transform you into somebody else. All we have to do is change into three of the Slytherins. Snotlout boasts about everything that he thinks makes him sound great."

"This Polyjuice Potion stuff sounds dangerous to me," Astrid said, frowning. "What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"

"Don't worry; it wears off," Ragnar said, "unless, of course, you try to change into something non-human or something. But that's not the problem; the problem is Asketill said the recipe for the potion is in a book called _Moste Potente Potions,_ and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

There was only one way to get out a book from Restricted Section: you needed to have a signed note of permission from a teacher.

"Well that's that plan down the drain," Astrid grumbled.

"I think," Ragnar said thoughtfully, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance…"

"No teacher in the whole realm would fall for that," Hiccup argued. "They'd have to be really stupid…"

* * *

**Gee, who do we know who fits that description?**

**Favorite line of chapter: "But, sir," Astrid said; one of her hands had found Hiccup's arm, and was holding it in a death grip, "If the Chamber can only opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else _would_ be able to find it, would they?"**

**(Valhallarama the Dependable: Ooh, I _like_ her. *looks directly at Hiccup* Can we keep her?)**

**Any suggestions for what I should do in future chapters/books? Feel free to let me know; I'll probably use it. Credit is always given.**

**Remember to comment, bookmark, and/or leave a kudos—everyone who does gets a shout-out at the end!**

**Well, that's all for today. See you next week!**


	10. The Rogue Bludger

**'Nother Comic-Con, whoop whoop. Some of the people there thought I was in my twenties...I'm still in high school, ya'll.**

**(Oh, speaking of high school, keep an eye out for a non-fanfic story coming out in a couple of weeks)**

**Onward** **!**

* * *

_Chapter Ten: The Rogue Bludger_

* * *

Ever since the disastrous episode that had been Stormfly (A story Astrid had been all too happy to spread across the entire academy), Flashburn had been very careful when it came to dragons. Every once in a blue moon he would bring one in, but the few students who agreed to try and approach them wound up in the Infirmary. The exception to this, unsurprisingly, was Ragnar. He had had no trouble at all bonding with a Whispering Death, who after careful deliberation he named Silence.

Silence was one of the largest dragons Flashburn had dared to bring into class, and at the first sight of him most of the students backed as far away from him as was physically possible. The Whispering Death had moss green scales with several dull spikes sticking out, milky white eyes, a round head, and no legs. According to Flashburn, Whispering Deaths’ were notoriously elitist dragons, who typically only bonded to those of Viking descent. Despite this, Silence had taken to Ragnar almost instantly; it was rather like watching a puppy greet its owner, except Silence didn’t make a lot of noise (hence the name).

Most of the time, however, classes were spent by Flashburn reading passages from his books to them, and sometimes re-enacted the more "dramatic" bits. He was a far better actor than a teacher.

Flashburn would often pick Hiccup to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Hiccup had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Flashburn had freed from a dark-elf in his cave, a frost-giant with a head-cold, and a dark-elf who had been badly burnt by touching iron ever since Flashburn had dealt with him.

Hiccup was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Combat Arts lesson, this time acting as a werewolf. If Hiccup hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Flashburn in a good mood, he would have refused to do it.

"Nice loud howl, Hiccup—exactly—and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced—like this— _slammed_ him to the floor—thus—with one hand I managed to hold him down—with my other, I put my silver knife to his throat—I then screwed up my remaining strength and zapped him with the most powerful Lightning Magic I could muster—he left out a piteous moan—go on, Hiccup—a little higher than that—good—the fur vanished—the fangs shrank—and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective—and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang, much to Hiccup’s relief, and Flashburn stood up with a wide grin.

"Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga werewolf! A signed copy of _Magical Me_ goes to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave. Hiccup returned to the back of the room, where Astrid and Ragnar were waiting.

"Ready?" Hiccup muttered.

"Unfortunately," the blonde grunted.

"Wait until everyone's gone," Ragnar said, as the last student left the arena. "All right…"

Astrid approached Flashburn's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hands, Hiccup and Ragnar right behind her.

"Uh, Flashburn, sir," Astrid said, a painfully fake smile on her face. "I wanted to get this book out of the library. It’s just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hands shaking as though she was nervous. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it—I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in _Gadding with Ghouls_ about slow-acting venoms…"

"Ah, _Gadding with Ghouls_!" Flashburn exclaimed, taking the note from Astrid and smiled widely at her. "That one was quite possibly my favorite. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh yes," Astrid said, the smile nearly slipping off of her face. "I loved it."

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the most beautiful girl in the year a little extra help," Flashburn said with a wink, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on her face. "I usually save it for book signing."

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Astrid.

"So, Hiccup," Flashburn began, while Astrid folded the note and slipped it into her satchel, "tomorrow's the first Dragon Racing match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin match, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players…"

Hiccup made an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurried off after Ragnar and Astrid.

"I don't believe it," Hiccup said, as the three of them examined the signature on the note, "He didn't even _look_ at the book we wanted."

"That’s because he’s a brainless git," Astrid snarled, "who was easily distracted by a smile and a bit of flattery."

Ragnar nodded. "Too true. But at least we’ve got what we needed."

They lowered their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library.

Hairy the Librarian was a thin, hairy old man who could easily be mistaken for Mildew's brother.

 _"Moste Potente Potions_?" he repeated suspiciously, taking the note from Astrid.  He held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. He stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Ragnar put it carefully into his satchel and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.

Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Myrtle the Moaning's out-of-order bathroom once again. They had all agreed that Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, but this time Ragnar used his Aura Magic to create a sort of Sensor in case someone went walking past the bathroom door. Myrtle was crying noisily in her cubicle, but they were doing their best to ignore her, and she them.

Ragnar opened _Moste Potente Potions_ carefully, and the three of them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from just a single glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects too gruesome to think about, and there were some very disturbing illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a Valkyrie sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.

"Here it is," Ragnar said excitedly, as he found the page headed _The Polyjuice Potion_. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Hiccup hoped that the artist had merely imagined the looks of the intense pain on their faces.

"I've never seen a more complicated potion," Ragnar breathed, carefully scanning the recipe. "We'll need lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass," he murmured, running his finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough; they're in the student store-cupboard, so we'll be able to help ourselves. However, we'll also need powdered horn of Bicorn, Shredded skin of a Boomslang, and lastly a bit of whomever we want to change into."

"Wait a minute," Astrid said sharply. "Did you just say that we need a bit of whomever we want to change into?"

"Yes," Ragnar said heavily. "I'm not exactly thrilled about that part either, but without it the potion is pretty much useless. Luckily, that’s the last step, so we don’t have to worry just yet…"

Disgusted, Astrid turned to Hiccup, who had discovered another problem.

"Uh, you do know that horn of Bicorn and shredded skin of a Boomslang are not in the students' cupboard, right? And that we'll have to break into Asketill’s private stores to get them?"

"I know, I know…we'll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it," Ragnar said, shutting the book.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Rag. Astrid and I are already in trouble, and Asketill won't hesitate to try and get us expelled."

"If you've got a better idea, I'm open to it, but right now this is our best shot to find out who the Heir of Slytherin is."

Hiccup and Astrid looked at other and nodded in agreement.

"How long will this take, anyway?" Hiccup asked.

Ragnar opened the book again. "Well, the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days—"

"How long, then?" Astrid demanded.

"Well, give or take a few days, and if we can get all the ingredients quickly enough…about a month or so."

"A month?!" Hiccup and Astrid yelled.

"Rag, if Snotlout is the Heir of Slytherin then he could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the academy in that time," Hiccup said.

"I know that, but I can't make the potion any faster," Ragnar said.

Astrid didn't look happy about this, but said, "Then let's do it."

However, while Ragnar checked the Sensor to make sure the coast was clear, Astrid muttered to Hiccup, "It'll be a lot less hassle if you just got Toothless to knock Snotlout off his dragon with a plasma blast tomorrow."

* * *

Hiccup awoke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while, thinking about the coming Dragon Racing match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Eret would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing saddles gold could buy. He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly in his life.

After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest of Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table. No one said a word, and each face was tense with worry.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Dragon Racing stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Astrid and Ragnar came hurrying over to wish Hiccup good luck as he entered the changing rooms. The team put on their scarlet Gryffindor face paint, then sat down to listen to Eret's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin have better saddles than us," he began. "No point in denying it. But we've got better _people_ on our saddles, and better dragons wearing them. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers—" ("Too true," Trouble Hofferson muttered, "I don’t think I’ve been properly dry since August") "—and we're going to make the rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Snotlout, buy his way onto their team."

Chest heaving with emotion, Eret turned to Hiccup.

"It'll be down to you, Hiccup."

"Isn't it always?" Hiccup muttered.

"Just show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Snotlout no matter the cost, Hiccup; we've got to win today, we've got to."

"Sure, no pressure there," Double said, winking at him halfheartedly.

As they flew out onto the stadium, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard too. Madam Flyheart, the Dragon Racing teacher, asked Dagur and Eret to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," Madam Flyheart said, "three…two…one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, the fourteen players flew to their positions. Hiccup and Toothless flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

"You alright up there, Useless?" Snotlout yelled, as he and Hookfang shot passed them, as though to show off the speed the saddle was providing.

Hiccup had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting towards him; it would have hit if Toothless hadn't dodged it.

"Thanks bud," Hiccup said, taking a breath of relief.

 _"No problem,"_ the dragon warbled back.

"That sure was a close one, Hiccup!" Trouble called as he and Strike streaked past him, Trouble waving his club around, ready to knock the Bludger back towards a Slytherin. Hiccup saw Trouble give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Asger Pucson, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Hiccup again.

Toothless dropped quickly to avoid it, and Trouble managed to hit it hard towards Snotlout. Once again, the Bludger served like a boomerang and shot at Hiccup's head.

Hiccup gave Toothless a nudge and they zoomed towards the other end of the stadium. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and knock off as many people as possible…

Double Hofferson was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Hiccup ducked as Double swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

"That's done it!" Double yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted towards Hiccup and Toothless, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Toothless was forced to fly off at full speed.

"This—is—getting—ridiculous—!" Hiccup yelled, as he dodged the Bludger after each word.

It had started to rain; Hiccup could feel the heavy drops falling onto his face, washing off some of his face paint. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lock Jordson, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero."

The Slytherins' superior saddles were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was going all it could to knock Hiccup off of Toothless. Double and Trouble were now flying so close to him on either side that Hiccup could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

"Someone's—tampered—with—this—Bludger—" Double grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Hiccup.

"We need time out," Trouble said, trying to signal to Eret and stop the Bludger breaking Hiccup's nose at the same time.

Eret had obviously got the message. Madam Flyheart’s whistle rang out and Hiccup, Double and Trouble lead their dragons towards him, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.

"What's going on?" Eret demanded as the Gryffindor team flew close together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being _flattened._ Double, Trouble, where the Helheim were you two when that Bludger stopped Ashe scoring?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Hiccup, Eret," Trouble said angrily. "Someone's fixed it—it won't leave Hiccup alone, it hasn't gone for anyone else all game."

"The Slytherins must have done something to it," Double added.

"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Flyheart’s house since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…" Eret said, looking anxious.

"Well there's clearly something wrong now," Hiccup said.

Madam Flyheart was flying towards them on her Timberjack, Stokehead. Over her shoulder, Hiccup could see the Slytherin jeering and pointing in his direction.

"Listen," Hiccup said, as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around Toothless and me all the time, the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch it if it takes pity and flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let Toothless and I deal with the rogue one."

Toothless stared at him. _"And just how do you propose we do that?"_

"I don’t know, bud, but we’ll figure it out," Hiccup muttered.

"I'm with Toothless on this one," Double said, "It'll take your head off."

Eret was looking from Hiccup to the Hoffersons.

"Eret, this is mad," Elfchild Spinson said angrily, "you can't let Hiccup deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an enquiry—"

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" Hiccup said, "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of one mad Bludger! Come on, Eret; tell them to leave me alone!"

"This is all your fault," Trouble said angrily to Eret. "'Get the Snitch no matter the cost,' what a stupid thing to tell him!"

"I didn't mean to die for it," Eret said. He looked at Hiccup. "Hiccup, it's not worth getting killed over one match."

"I’m a Viking; it's an occupation hazard," Hiccup said. "I can take care of myself."

 _" Load of dragon dung._ "

"Shut up, Toothless."

Madam Flyheart had joined them.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Eret.

Eret looked at the determined look on Hiccup's face.

"Fine," he sighed. "Double, Trouble, you heard the man—leave him and Toothless alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Flyheart’s whistle, Toothless zoomed forwards. Before long, Hiccup could hear the telltale _whoosh_ of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Toothless climbed. He looped and swooped, spiraled, zig-zagged and rolled. Hiccup was getting a little dizzy, but he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open, trying to spot the Snitch. The rain made this task difficult, and Toothless's flying didn't help. At one point Hiccup was hanging on to Toothless' saddle upside down, as Toothless spun upside down to avoid another fierce dive from the Bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as Toothless could. Toothless began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edge of the stadium, squinting through the sliver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal-posts, where Asger Pucson was trying to get past Eret.

A whistling in Hiccup's ear told him the Bludger had just barely missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.

"Training for the ballet, Useless?" Snotlout yelled, as Toothless was forced to do stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the Bludger. Off Toothless fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him: and then, glaring back at Snotlout in hatred, he saw it— _the Dark Snitch_. It was hovering inches above Snotlout's left ear—and Snotlout, busy laughing at Hiccup, hadn't seen it.

WHAM.

Hiccup cried out in pain. Toothless had been hovering for too long, and the Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and Hiccup felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on Toothless' back, his left arm dangling useless at his side. The Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face. Toothless quickly swerved out of the way.

"Okay, bud, get over to Snotlout," Hiccup whispered to him.

Toothless understood him and turned course and dived straight at the shimmering, sneering face below him. Snotlout stared at him in fear; he probably thought that he was going to attack.

"What the—" he gasped, careering out of Toothless' way.

Hiccup raised his remaining hand and despite the rain in his face and the pain in his other arm, he made a wild snatch and felt his fingers close on the cold Dark Snitch. However, now that he wasn't holding Toothless' saddle he fell into the ice cold water below. The crowd gasped as he swam to the nearest pontoon, which luckily wasn't far away, and Toothless landed on the pontoon and pulled him onto it.

Hiccup spared a glance at his arm, which was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched tightly in his good hand.

"Aha," he said vaguely. "we've won."

And with that, he fainted.

He came round soon after, rain falling on his face, still lying on the pontoon, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.

"Oh no," he moaned, "not you."

"The boy doesn't know what he's saying," Flashburn said loudly, to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Hiccup. I'm about to fix your arm."

" _No!"_  Hiccup said, "I'll keep it like this, thanks…"

He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

"I don't want a photo of this, Gustav," he said loudly.

There was a scuffle in the crowd, and Astrid broke through, racing to his side.

"Hiccup!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with horror. She looked as though she wanted to hug him, but the state of his arm made her hesitant. "Oh gods, for a minute I thought you were dead! Is anything else hurt?!"

"No," Hiccup assured her, "just my arm."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hiccup could see Ragnar trying to claw his way through the crowd, but he lacked Astrid’s brute strength and intimidation factor.

"Lay back, Hiccup," Flashburn said in a would-be soothing voice. "It's a simple bit of Water Magic; I've used it countless times—"

"Why can't I just go to the Infirmary?" Hiccup asked through clenched teeth.

"He really should, sir," a dripping wet Eret said, looking slightly worried. "Great capture, Hiccup, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say."

Through the thicket legs around him, Hiccup spotted Double and Trouble wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.

"Forget about the match!" Astrid yelled, whipping around to glare at Eret. "He’s _hurt,_ for Thor’s sake!"

"Astrid’s right," Gobber said. "The lad needs to get to the Infirmary to get someone more capable to fix it."

"Nonsense Gobber," Flashburn said dismissively, "I'm more than capable to heal young Hiccup here. Now stand back." Flashburn then summoned some water from the pitch into his hand.

"No—don't—" Hiccup said weakly. Toothless and Astrid tried to stop Flashburn, but too late; Flashburn placed his hand on Hiccup's injured arm.

The water sunk all the way down to his bones, and a strange, unpleasant sensation started at Hiccup's shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn't dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realized when Astrid gasped. When he tried to move his arm, nothing happened; in fact, it felt nothing remotely like an arm.

"Ah, yes. Well, that can sometimes happen," Flashburn said as he held Hiccup’s arm, which now looked more like a flesh-colored glove. He then twisted his arm backwards and everyone gave it a disgusted look, apart from Hiccup and Astrid, who were staring at it in horror. "The good news is that, uh, you can no longer feel any pain, and very clearly the bones are not broken."

"Broken?!" Gobber said furiously. "There are no bones left!"

Gobber was right; Flashburn hadn't mended Hiccup's bones, he had _removed_ them.

"Much more flexible though," Flashburn said cheerfully, as Hiccup arm returned to its original position.

* * *

Bergljot the Helpful wasn't at all pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, only a half an hour before, had been a working arm. "I can mend bones in a heartbeat—but growing them back—"

"You will be able to, won't you?" Astrid asked worriedly.

"Oh, I'll be able to, but it will be painful," Bergljot said grimly, throwing Hiccup a pair of pajamas. "You'll have to stay the night."

Astrid waited outside the curtain drawn around Hiccup's bed while Ragnar helped him into his pajamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.

They could see Astrid pacing on the other side of the curtain. "I can't _believe_ him—that pompous, egotistical _idiot_ —Flashburn!" she grumbled, her arms flailing about wildly. "How could anyone still admire him after  _that_ display?!" Her tone became concerned. "How’s your arm, Hiccup? Does it still hurt?"

"No, not really," Hiccup assured her. "It just doesn’t function like an arm right now."

As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly.

Astrid and Bergljot came around the curtain. Bergljot was holding a large bottle of something labelled "Skele-Gro".

"You're in for a rough night, lad," she said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business."

So was taking the Skele-Gro. The moment it entered Hiccup's mouth, he spat it out all over the bed. It felt like he was drinking boiling lava.

"What were you expecting, yak milk?" Bergljot asked, rolling her eyes as she poured another beakerful.

After Hiccup took it, this time managing to hold it down, (though it did make him cough and splutter) Bergljot left him alone. He could hear her muttering about dangerous sports and inept teachers.

"We won though," Astrid said, a small grin breaking across her face as she handed him a glass of water. "That was some catch you made. Snotlout's face…he looked ready to kill…"

"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," Ragnar said darkly.

"We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," Hiccup said, sinking back onto his pillow. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff…"

"It’s going to have bits of Slytherins in it; it’ll taste the same if we’re lucky," Astrid pointed out.

The door of the Infirmary burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Hiccup.

"Unbelievable flying, Hiccup," Trouble said. "I've just seen Dagur yelling at Snotlout. Something about having the Snitch right on top of his head and not noticing it. Snotlout didn't seem too happy."

"Yeah, well I think Toothless deserves most of the credit," Hiccup said and looked at Ragnar. "Can you feed Toothless for me?"

"Sure, he deserves something for keeping you alive," Ragnar said.

The Gryffindor team brought cakes, sweets and bottles of warm yak milk; they gathered around Hiccup's bed and were getting started on what promised to be a good party when Bergljot came storming over, shouting, "This boy needs rest, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT! Mr. Wicket, that includes you!"

As the grumbling students—Ragnar included—began to file out of the hospital wing, Bergljot’s eyes fell upon Astrid.

The girl fixed her steely gaze on the school nurse. "I’m not leaving him. I’ll get Alvis’s permission to stay if I have to."

Bergljot sighed. "I suppose it would be more trouble than it's worth trying to remove you, Miss Hofferson," she said. "Hiccup’s in for a rough night; might as well let him have some company."

* * *

Hours and hours later, Hiccup woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and let out a small hiss of pain. His arm now felt as though it was filled with large splinters. For a second, he thought it was that which had woken him. Then he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the darkness, and the freezing cold water was what had disturbed his sleep. He immediately thought it was Astrid; she wasn’t the type for that, sure, but she had surprised him before. But a yawn and a sleepy "Hiccup? What’s going on?" at his side made it clear she wasn’t the culprit. He forced his eyes to open—

_"Dobby?!"_

"Th…That’s Dobby?" Astrid asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Hiccup nodded. "Dobby, what the Helheim are you doing here?"

The house-elf's goggling tennis-ball eyes were peering at Hiccup and Astrid through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.

"Hiccup Haddock came back to Berk," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Hiccup Haddock. Ah, sir, why didn't he heed Dobby? It is too dangerous for Hiccup Haddock here—and it is too dangerous for Hiccup Haddock’s girlfriend too…"

Hiccup couldn’t help blushing, but Astrid was apparently too groggy to deny the claim.

"Why didn't Hiccup Haddock and his girlfriend go back home when they missed the train?"

Hiccup heaved himself up onto his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away. "How did you know we missed the train?"

Dobby's lips trembled, and Astrid quickly put two and two together.

"It was _you_ !" she said, suddenly wide awake, " _you_ stopped the barrier from letting us through!"

"Yes indeed, madam," Dobby said, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping, "Dobby hid and watched for you, and sealed the gateway. Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards—" he showed them ten, long, bandaged fingers, "—but Dobby didn't care, madam, for he thought Hiccup Haddock and Astrid Hofferson were safe. _Never_ did Dobby dream that they would get to Berk another way!"

He was rocking backwards and forwards, shaking his ugly head.

"Dobby was so surprised when he heard Hiccup Haddock and Astrid Hofferson were back at Berk, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir…"

Hiccup slumped back onto his pillows.

"You nearly got Astrid and I expelled," he said fiercely. "You'd better clear off before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might help Astrid strangle you."

Dobby smiled weakly.

"Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home."

He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore. It looked so pathetic that Hiccup and Astrid couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Why do you wear that thing, Dobby?" Hiccup asked curiously.

"Ah, these rags, sir?" Dobby said, plucking at the pillowcase. "This is a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever."

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Hiccup Haddock _must_ go home! Dobby had hoped his Bludger would be enough to make—"

Astrid’s sympathy vanished into thin air. "That was _your_ Bludger?! You could’ve killed him with that thing!"

"Not kill him, madam, never kill him!" Dobby wailed, looking horrified by the mere thought. "Dobby wants to save Hiccup Haddock's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, madam! Dobby only wanted Hiccup Haddock hurt enough to be sent home!"

"You have a funny way of saving people, Dobby," Hiccup said angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you wanted me sent home in pieces?"

"Ah, if only Hiccup Haddock knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, to us dregs of Viking world! Dobby remembers how it was when the Dragon Lord was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase, "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over the Dragon Lord. Hiccup Haddock survived, and the Dragon Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Hiccup Haddock shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dragon Lord’s reign would never end, sir…and now, at Berk, terrible things are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Hiccup Haddock stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more—"

"Wait, you’re saying that this has happened before?" Hiccup said.

"I shouldn't have said that," Dobby gasped. He then grabbed the bottle of Skele-Gro and began hitting his head with it, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…"

Astrid snagged the bottle of Skele-Gro, pulled it out of Dobby's hands and placed it back on the table far from the elf’s reach.

"You better start giving me a straight answer Dobby," Hiccup said, grabbing Dobby's pillowcase by the scruff of the neck. "Who’s opening the chamber? Who opened it last time? And why the Helheim do you think Astrid and I are the ones in danger?"

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," the house-elf stammered, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Hiccup Haddock must not be here when they happen. Go home, Hiccup Haddock. Go home; Hiccup Haddock must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous—"

"Why?" Astrid hissed. "How is it any worse than what we’ve already faced?"

"Dobby can’t, madam, Dobby can’t, Dobby mustn’t tell!" the elf squeaked. "Go home, sir and madam, go home!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Hiccup said firmly. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; he'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened—"

"Hiccup Haddock risks his own life for his friends!" Dobby moaned, in a miserable kind of ecstasy. "He is so noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Hiccup Haddock must not—"

Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Hiccup and Astrid heard it too. There were footsteps coming from outside the Infirmary.

"Dobby must go! Goodbye, sir and madam!" the elf breathed, terrified; he then disappeared in a puff of white smoke, and Hiccup's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He and Astrid slumped back into the two hospital beds they had pushed together, their eyes on the dark doorway to the Infirmary as the footsteps drew nearer.

Next moment the door opened, and Alvis the Noble was backing into the Infirmary, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap with horns poking out of it. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Phlegma the Fierce appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together they heaved it onto the bed. Bergljot then came in, wearing a cardigan over her nightdress.

Hiccup and Astrid lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. They listened in to the conversation and saw Bergljot examining the statue.

"What happened?" Bergljot asked, looking aghast.

"Another attack," Alvis said grimly. "Phlegma found the poor lad on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," Phlegma said. "We think he was trying to sneak down here to visit Hiccup and Astrid."

Hiccup's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was Gustav Larson.

His eyes were wide with shock, and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding tight to his camera.

"Petrified?" Bergljot whispered.

"Yes, just like…just like Valka was," Phlegma said. Hiccup almost let out a large gasp, but controlled himself. "But I shudder to think…if Alvis hadn't been on the way to the kitchen for some hot chocolate, who knows what might have…"

The three of them stared down at Gustav. Then Alvis leaned forward and pried the camera out of Gustav's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker, do you?" Phlegma asked eagerly.

Alvis didn't answer. He pried open the back of the camera.

"Odin's beard," Bergljot breathed.

A jet of stream had hissed out of the camera. Hiccup and Astrid, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

"Melted," Bergljot said wonderingly, "completely melted…"

"What does this _mean_ , Alvis?" Phlegma asked urgently.

"I think we both know what this means, Phlegma," Alvis said. "It means that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Bergljot clapped a hand over to her mouth. Phlegma stared at Alvis.

"But Alvis…surely… _who would—_?"

"The question is not _who_ , my dear," Alvis said, his eyes on Gustav. "The question is _how_ …"

And from what Hiccup and Astrid could see of Phlegma's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than they did.

* * *

**Alvis, let's not be cryptic here. If you have a theory, please tell us.**

**Favorite line of chapter:**

**_"Load of dragon dung._ "**

**"Shut up, Toothless."**

**(I will love this part until I die)**

**Yes, Dobby calls Astrid "madam". I went through a whole list of respectful titles he could use, and that is the one that stuck (some of the alternatives being "ma'am", "miss" and "Lady Hofferson")**

**Well, my tablet is dying so I guess I better cut it off here. See you all next week!**


	11. The Dueling Club

**Hands down, the best part of writing this chapter was hearing my editor squeal when she read the beginning.** **Which part exactly?**

**I'm sure you can guess.**

**Onwards!**

* * *

_Chapter Eleven: The Dueling Club_

* * *

Hiccup woke up on Sunday morning to find the Infirmary blazing with winter sunlight, and his arm (which he had rolled onto at some point in the night) re-boned but very stiff. Slowly, carefully, he rolled over, and found himself face to face with Astrid.

Predictably, Hiccup’s face blazed red. "Uh…m-morning…"

Astrid seemed rather unfazed by the lack of distance. "Morning." She jerked her head to the right. "Look at Gustav’s bed."

More than a little glad for the distraction, Hiccup sat up and looked over at Gustav’s bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains he had changed behind the day before.

"I watched her put them up," Astrid said in an undertone. "Doesn’t want anyone trying to see him, I guess."

Seeing that they were awake, Bergljot came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretched Hiccup’s arm and fingers.

"All in order," she said, as Hiccup clumsily fed himself porridge right-handed. "When you've finished eating, you may leave."

"Thank you, ma’am," Hiccup said.

Hiccup and Astrid dressed as quickly as they could and hurried off to the Gryffindor common room, desperate to tell Ragnar about everything they had heard.

But Ragnar wasn’t in the common room. Nor was he in the second year dormitory.

"He’s probably in the library," Astrid said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Hiccup shook his head. "Ragnar isn’t exactly a morning person, Astrid. Even _he_ wouldn’t be willing to start studying at this hour."

"Then where is he?"

"I don’t know. Eating, maybe?"

At that moment, Phlegma the Fierce approached them.

"Ah…there you are, Astrid. You have a visitor—Wermond the Eye-giver has just arrived, with an assortment of crystal eyes for you to try."

 _"Finally!_ " Hiccup thought, unable to help grinning. _"I thought he’d never show!"_

Astrid’s eyes went wide. "Did my…did my parents send for him? How did they find out I broke my crystal eye? I made my brothers _promise_ not to tell—"

"It wasn’t your parents, my dear," Phlegma said. "Wermond the Eye-giver received an urgent Terrible Terror last month, carrying a satchel full of galleons and a letter asking him to bring what he thought would do for a selection. He’s sorry for the wait, but there was one in particular he was having trouble finding."

"But…but who…?"

Hiccup spoke without his brain’s permission. "I contacted him."

"You did?" Astrid turned to him, clearly caught off guard.

"Yes."

"And you didn’t tell me about this because…?"

"Because I knew you would be mad at me for being "overprotective", and would likely punch me in the face."

She did indeed look a bit angry, and Hiccup wasn’t surprised when her fist collided painfully with his right arm. "That’s for going behind my back."

"I thought as much," Hiccup said dryly, rubbing his shoulder absent mindfully.

Astrid huffed, grabbing a fistful of his tunic and pulling him closer…And she kissed him.

It was a short kiss, lasting only about three seconds, but damn it, they were the best three seconds of Hiccup’s entire life.

"That’s for…Everything else," Astrid said as she pulled away. She then turned around and followed after Phlegma, who looked as though she was struggling to withhold a laugh.

After standing there for a little while, too stunned to move, Hiccup shook himself and continued on his way, trying in vain to wipe the love-struck expression off of his face.

As Hiccup passed the library, Askeladden Hofferson strolled out of it, looking to be in a similar mood.

"Oh, hello, Hiccup," he said, "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor have just taken the lead for the House Cup—you earned fifty points!"

"You haven't seen Ragnar anywhere, have you?" Hiccup asked.

"No, I haven't," Askeladden said, his smile fading slightly. "I hope Astrid hasn't led him into another _girl's toilet_ …"

Hiccup forced a laugh, watched Askeladden walk out of sight, and then headed straight for Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom. He couldn't see why Ragnar would be in there again, but after making sure than neither Mildew nor any prefects were around, he opened the door and heard Ragnar muttering to himself.

"It's me," he said, closing the door behind him. There was a clunk, a splash and gasp from within the cubicle and he saw Ragnar's eye peering through the keyhole.

 _" Hiccup_!" he said. "I should have known it was your aura approaching. Come in—how's your arm?"

"Fine," Hiccup said, squeezing into the cubicle. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Hiccup he had lit a fire beneath it. Hiccup remembered before the Dragon Racing match that he created a waterproof fire for him.

"I would’ve come to meet you, but I decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ragnar explained, as, with difficulty, he locked the cubicle again. "I figured this was the safest place to hide it. Where’s Astrid?"

"She’s finding a new crystal eye."

"Ah, so Wermond finally decided to show up."

Hiccup started to tell him about Gustav, but Ragnar interrupted: "I already know about that; I overheard Phlegma telling Alvar this morning. That's why I decided we'd better get going now—"

"There's something else," Hiccup said, watching Ragnar tearing bundles of Knotgrass and throwing them into the potion, "Dobby came to visit Astrid and I in the middle of the night."

Ragnar looked up, amazed. Hiccup told him everything Dobby had told them—or hadn't told them and what they had heard Alvis say to Phlegma. Ragnar listened attentively, his mouth open.

"So, the Chamber of Secrets has been opened _before_ , and your _mother_ had been attacked as well?" he asked.

"Yeah, and from the way Alvis was talking about it, it sounded as though he knew who was opening the Chamber," Hiccup said.

Ragnar hummed appreciatively, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Now what dragon could the heir be using, I wonder? It could be a Changewing; they can blend in with their surroundings. Or maybe it's a Speed Stinger; they can move really fast…"

* * *

By Monday morning, the news that Gustav Larson had been attacked had spread throughout the entire academy. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the mountain in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Egill Hofferson, who was Gustav’s best friend, was distraught, but Hiccup felt that Double and Trouble were going the wrong way about cheering him up. They were taking it in turns to cover themselves with fur and boils and jump out at him from behind statues. They only stopped when Askeladden, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Hofferson and tell her Egill was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets and other protective devices was sweeping the academy. Fishlegs bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal and a rotting newt-tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger: he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

"They went for Mildew first," Fishlegs said, his thin legs shaking, "and everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."

* * *

In the second week of December, Phlegma came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at the academy for Snoggletog. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar signed her list; they had heard that Snotlout was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him.

Unfortunately, the potion was only half-finished. They still needed the Unicorn horn and the Boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Asketill’s private stores. Hiccup privately felt he'd rather face Slytherin's legendary monster weaponless than have Asketill catch him robbing his office.

"What we need," Ragnar said briskly, as Thursday afternoon's double Potions lesson loomed nearer, "is a good diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Asketill’s office and take what we need."

Hiccup and Astrid looked at him nervously.

"Don't worry, I'll do the stealing," Ragnar assured them. "You two will be expelled if you get in any more trouble, and I've got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Asketill busy for five minutes or so."

Hiccup smiled feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Asketill’s Potions class was about as safe as poking a Monstrous Nightmare in the eye.

* * *

Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon's lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Asketill prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors' work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Snotlout, who was Asketill’s favorite student, kept winking at Astrid, thinking that she was actually into him, just playing hard to get, and knowing that if Hiccup reacted he would get detention faster than he could say "unfair".

Hiccup's Swelling Solution was far too runny, but he had his mind on more important things. He was waiting for Ragnar's signal, and he hardly listened as Asketill paused to sneer at his watery potion. When Asketill turned and walked off to bully Fishlegs, Ragnar caught Hiccup's eye and nodded.

Hiccup ducked swiftly behind his cauldron, pulled one of Double's Filibuster fireworks out of his pocket and used his Fire Magic to make it fizz and sputter. Knowing he had only seconds, Hiccup straightened up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air. It landed right on target; inside Falskur’s cauldron.

The swelling potion exploded, showering the whole class. Hiccup, Ragnar and Astrid barely managed to duck under their desks in time. People shrieked as splashes of the Solution hit them. Snotlout got a faceful of it, and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Falskur blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of dinner plates; and all the while Asketill was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, Hiccup saw Ragnar slide quietly out of the door.

"Be quiet, you bumbling idiots! I SAID, BE QUIET!" Asketill roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft. I swear, when I find out who did this…"

Hiccup tried his best to not laugh as he watched Snotlout hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon. As half the class lumbered up to Asketill’s desk, some weighed down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips, Hiccup saw Ragnar slide back into the dungeon, his satchel bulging slightly.

"You know, it's a shame that Snotlout is getting cured; he's a lot better looking now," Astrid muttered to Hiccup, who snorted.

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Asketill swept over Falskur’s cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Asketill whispered, a murderous gleam in his eyes, "I shall make _sure_ that person is expelled."

Hiccup arranged his face into what he hoped was puzzled expression. Asketill was looking right at him, and the bell, which rang ten minutes later, could not have been more welcome.

"He knew it was me," Hiccup told Astrid and Ragnar, as they hurried back to Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom, "I could tell."

Ragnar threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.

"It'll be ready in a fortnight," he said happily.

"Asketill can't prove it was you," Astrid assured Hiccup. "What can he do?"

"Knowing Asketill, something foul," Hiccup said, watching as the potion frothed and bubbled.

* * *

A week later, Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar were walking across the Great Hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up, Fishlegs, Ruffnut and Tuffnut beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" Fishlegs exclaimed. "The first meeting is tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…"

"What, you reckon Slytherin's dragon can duel?" Astrid scoffed, but she too read the sign with interest.

"It sounds awesome," Tuffnut said eagerly.

"I know right," Ruffnut said, just as excited. "Do you think we get to blow something up?"

"Could be useful," Astrid said to Hiccup and Ragnar as they went into dinner, "Shall we go?"

Hiccup and Ragnar were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried to the arena. The arena's desks were gone and in the center was a wooden stage with burning torches at each corner. The caged ceiling had been raised up so that it was now about thirty feet in the air. Most of the students were holding their weapons and had their crystal eyes imbedded in them.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us," Astrid mused as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Alvar was a dueling champion when he was young, maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not—" Hiccup began, but he ended on a groan.

"It’s Flashburn, isn’t it?" Astrid asked, her heart plummeting.

"Of course it is. But that’s not the worst part."

Flashburn was walking onto the stage, resplendent in an outfit of deep plum, and accompanied by none other than Asketill, wearing his usual grimy black.

Flashburn waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, students; gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent, let’s get started!

"Now, Alvis the Noble has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, in order to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works."

"Why Gods, what did we do wrong?" Astrid groaned.

"Let me introduce my assistant Asketill the Harsh," Flashburn went on, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry—you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear."

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ragnar muttered darkly.

Asketill’s upper lip was curling. Astrid wondered why Flashburn was still smiling; most people would have been running as fast as they could in the opposite direction if Asketill had been looking at them like that.

Flashburn and Asketill turned to face each other and bowed. Or at least, Flashburn did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Asketill jerked his head irritably. They pulled out their weapons; for Flashburn a sword and for Asketill an axe and held them tightly in their hands ready to fight.

"As you see, we are holding our weapons in the accepted combative positions and our crystal eyes are firmly in place," Flashburn told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will begin to duel. Neither of us will be going for the kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Hiccup murmured. Astrid saw his point; Asketill was baring his teeth like a dragon about to charge.

"One—two—three—"

They both charged at each other with magic passing through their weapons. Flashburn’s sword was covered in a weak electrical current, while Asketill’s axe was covered in a furious flame. Their weapons collided, and the moment they touched Flashburn was thrown backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

"Do you think he's all right?" Astrid asked Hiccup, unable to contain her smirk.

"Who cares?" Hiccup responded with a laugh.

Flashburn was getting unsteadily to his feet. His helmet had fallen off, and his wavy hair was a bit scorched.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "As Asketill has just shown, the best way to throw your opponent off balance is to charge your weapon with powerful magic. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Asketill, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been much too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Asketill was looking even more murderous. Possibly Flashburn had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Asketill, if you'd like to help me…"

Flashburn looked around the area and saw Hiccup. "Ah, Hiccup why don't you partner up with Miss Hofferson."

"A bad idea, Flashburn," Asketill said, gliding over like a Night Fury. "It is no secret that Haddock is rather… _fond_ of Miss Hofferson. The fight simply would not be fair. I suggest she should be partnered up with Miss Thickarm."

"Okay, then how about Mr Wicket—"

But Asketill spoke up again. "No, no, it’s high time to split up the dream team, I think. Wicket, go with Ingerman. He should be easy enough for you."

"What about Hiccup?" Flashburn asked.

"I have the perfect partner for him. Mr Jorgenson, come over here. See what you can do with the famous Haddock."

Once everyone was put into pairs, Flashburn and Asketill walked back onto the stage.

"Okay, which pair should we have first," Flashburn said, looking around. "Ah, how about Miss Hofferson and Miss Thickarm go first."

Astrid walked onto the stage holding her axe tightly in her hand. Imbedded in its center was her new crystal eye, which was a light seafoam green in color. Wermond hadn’t told her what type of dragon it had come from, as he didn’t know himself, but it was supposedly very rare.

 _"I’ve been waiting to sell this little beauty for a very long time,"_ he’d told her. _"It was passed down from one crystal eye seller to another, for no one could claim it. At one point I began to think it had been cursed, or was otherwise a forgery, and thus, I hid it away. When Mr. Haddock wrote to me, however, I found myself looking for it, wondering if I should try again. Yes, that is why I was so late. And now I see that_ _you_ _were the customer this little thing was waiting for. Use it well."_

She intended to do just that.

Hilly Thickarm walked onto the stage as well. She was three times Astrid’s size, and in her hand she held a huge mace. The smile on her face as she swept into a mocking bow made Astrid want to break her nose. She’d been dying for a chance to see what her new crystal eye could really do, but Hilly just didn’t seem worth it.

The crystal eye was going to have to wait.

She charged towards Hilly, brandishing her axe. Hilly attempted to hit her with an icy blizzard, but Astrid ducked down under it and went into a skid. Next second she went through in-between Hilly’s legs and jumped onto her back.

Hilly tried to throw her off, but Astrid clutched her hair and held on tight. Hilly screamed as Astrid pulled her hair. The Gryffindors were cheering, Hiccup and Ragnar being the loudest, but the match stopped when Asketill stalked onto the stage.

"That’s enough!" Asketill yelled.

Reluctantly, Astrid released her grip on Hilly. Asketill gave her a furious look, but Astrid just stood there and took it in, doing her best to not smile.

"An excellent show from Miss Astrid and Miss Thickarm," Flashburn exclaimed, as Astrid and Hilly walked off the stage. "Now then, how about Hiccup and Mr Jorgenson go next?"

Hiccup walked up onto stage and as he passed Astrid, she placed a hand on his arm and whispered, "Good luck."

He offered her a small smile. "Thanks."

When Hiccup walked onto the stage, Flashburn pulled him close to give him advice. Astrid had to lean in a bit to hear what he was saying.

"Now, Hiccup," Flashburn said, "When Snotlout charges at you with his mace, you do  _this_."

He raised his own sword, attempting to do a complicated sort of slicing movement that Astrid guessed was some kind of disarming move, but he dropped it. She saw Asketill smirking as Flashburn quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops—my sword is a little over-excited."

Asketill moved closer to Snotlout, bent down and whispered something in his ear. Snotlout smirked too. Astrid saw Hiccup pale slightly and ask, "Sir, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

About a minute later, both Hiccup and Snotlout moved towards each other, with their weapons in hand. Once they were a foot from each other they bowed.

"Scared, Useless?" Snotlout asked, smirking.

"You wish," Hiccup growled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Three—two—one—go!" Flashburn shouted.

Almost at once, Snotlout began to swing at Hiccup, his mace covered with flames, but Hiccup kept on dodging each one of his attacks. Astrid had to admit, Hiccup was a lot faster than he looked, but speed alone wouldn't be enough to protect him from Snotlout.

Hiccup seemed to have thought the same thing, because after dodging one of Snotlout's swings, he sent a fiery slash that flipped Snotlout forwards, making him land on his bottom. All the Gryffindors cheered, while the Slytherins booed and hissed.

"Well done, Hic!" Astrid yelled.

Snotlout looked really mad now, because once he got onto his feet, he swung his mace around like a madman. Next second it exploded. Everyone watched as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Haddock," Asketill said lazily. He was clearly enjoying the sight of Hiccup standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it…"

"Allow me!" Flashburn shouted. He brandished his sword at the snake and fired a bolt of lightning from it. When it hit the snake, it flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight towards Hardbottom Highhat and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

_" LEAVE HIM ALONE!"_

Astrid looked up at Hiccup in surprise. What the Helheim was he thinking?! That wasn’t going to—

The snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick black garden hose, its eyes now trained on Hiccup.

It…It had _listened_ to Hiccup…And she had heard what he’d said, as though it was English…But a snake wouldn’t listen to a command like that in English! It would only listen if…if…

Astrid sucked in a breath. Talking to a snake, and being able to _understand_ what had been said, could only mean one thing…

"What do you think you're playing at?" Hardbottom shouted at Hiccup. He looked angry and scared, which must have caught Hiccup off guard, since he was grinning at him a moment ago.

Before Hiccup could say anything in his own defense, Hardbottom had turned on his heel and stormed out of the arena.

Asketill stepped forward, waved his axe and sent a stream of bright red flames at the snake, turning it to ash. Asketill, too, was looking at Hiccup in an unexpected way: it was a shrewd and calculating look, and Astrid couldn’t blame Hiccup for not liking it.

Ragnar looked at her. "We need to get him out of here."

Astrid didn’t waste any time in responding; quick as could be she climbed onto the stage and ran over to Hiccup.

"Time to go," she hissed urgently, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the exit. He complied, albeit with a look of confusion on his face.

As they exited the arena, Ragnar hot on their heels, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Hiccup didn’t seem to notice it; he looked at Astrid as though he was hoping she could give him a straight answer. She didn't give him one until she had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room. Then she finally spoke. "You're a Serpent Tongue."

"I'm a what?" Hiccup asked, sounding even more confused.

"A Serpent Tongue," she repeated. "You can talk to dragons…And snakes."

"I know," Hiccup said, as though it wasn't a big deal. "I’ve been talking to Blood-Spatter for as long as I can remember. What’s the big deal? I bet loads of Vikings here can do it."

"No, they can’t," Astrid said. "It's not a very common ability to have, Hiccup."

"You mind explaining what you’re on about?" Hiccup asked, starting to get quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? If I hadn't told that snake not to attack Hardbottom—"

"Oh, that’s what you said to it?" Ragnar asked.

"What do you mean? You were there…you heard me."

"I heard you," Astrid said quietly, "But no one else did. To them it probably sounded as though you wanted the snake to bite Hardbottom's head off."

Hiccup gaped at her. "I spoke a different language? But—I didn't realize—how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

"You never knew you could fly a dragon or use magic, either," Ragnar pointed out.

Hiccup looked at him and Astrid; obviously he couldn't see the problem. Though the fact that they were looking at him as though someone had just died probably didn't help.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a snake biting Hardbottom's head off?" Hiccup said. "What does it matter _how_ I did it as long as Hardbottom doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," Ragnar said in a hushed voice, "because being able to talk to snakes was something that Slytherin the Cunning was famous for. Serpent Tongues have a way with serpent like dragon like Hideous Zipplebacks and Whispering Deaths. That's why the symbol of Slytherin house is a Hideous Zippleback."

Hiccup's mouth fell open.

"Exactly," Astrid said. "And now the whole academy's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something…"

"But I'm not," Hiccup said, a hint of panic in his voice. "I mean, I'm descendant from Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror."

"Yeah, that's the thing Hiccup," Astrid said, rubbing the back of her neck. "All of the pure-blooded Viking clans are related in one way or another."

"But I'm a half-blood," Hiccup pointed out.

"Yes, you are," Astrid agreed grimly, "but your father was a pure-blood."

"And you'll have a hard time proving you're not related to him," Ragnar added. "He lived over a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."

* * *

To say that Hiccup was depressed would be an understatement. He had spent the night lying in bed for hours, thinking as snow started to drift past the window. Astrid was right, he didn't know anything about his father's family, and the Dalvors had always forbidden questions about his clan's heritage.

At first he was going to dismiss the idea completely because he was in Gryffindor, but then he remembered that the Sorting Helmet had tried to put him in Slytherin house last year.

Well this morning he was going to explain to Hardbottom in Herbology that he'd been calling the snake off, not trying to get it to attack him.

However, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of term was cancelled: Eydis wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Fungus and Gustav.

Hiccup fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Astrid and Ragnar used their lesson off to play a game of Viking chess.

"Oh, for the love of Thor, Hiccup," Ragnar said, exasperated, as one of Astrid's elders wrestled his Chief to the ground and dragged it off the board. "Go and _find_ Hardbottom if it's so important to you."

"I’ll go with you," Astrid said, getting up and following him through the Portrait hole.

The mountain was darker than it usually was in daytime, thanks to the thick, swirling grey snow at every window. Shivering, Hiccup and Astrid walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. Phlegma was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Resisting the urge to take a look, Hiccup and Astrid kept going.

"Where do you think he would be?" Astrid asked, being careful to keep her voice down.

Hiccup frowned and tried to think of somewhere Hardbottom might go to. "…We’ll check the library first. He might be there, trying to catch up on some work."

Astrid nodded, and so they quickly set off for the library.

A group of the Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology was indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Hiccup could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. He couldn't see whether or not Hardbottom was among them. He was walking towards them when something of what they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section. Astrid paused beside him, looking confused.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Hardbottom to hide up in our dormitory. I mean honestly, if Haddock's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Hardbottom’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Haddock he was Muggle-born. Hardbottom actually _told_ him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you brag about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it _is_ Haddock, then Speedfist?" a little girl wearing a yellowish tunic and black legginings said anxiously. Hiccup recognized her as Eggingarde Damer, a friend of Fishlegs’.

"Egg," the stout boy said solemnly, "he's a Serpent Tongue. Everyone knows that's the mark of an evil Viking. Have you ever heard of a decent person who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent King."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Speedfist went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? _Enemies of the Heir Beware_. Haddock had some sort of run-in with Mildew. Next thing we know, Mildew's sheep got attacked. "That first year, Gustav Larson, he was annoying Haddock at the Dragon Racing match, taking pictures of him while he was lying on the pontoon soaking wet. Next thing we know, Larson's been attacked."

"His sword arm was injured," one of the others interjected. "How could it possibly have been him then?"

"Astrid Hofferson was with him," someone else said. "She’s a pureblood, and everyone knows how much Hiccup cares about her. Maybe she’s in on it. Maybe _she_ set the monster on Larson at his command."

"I don’t know," Eggingarde said uncertainly. "Hiccup…he’s so _nice._ And, well, he's the one who made the Dragon Lord disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Speedfist lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Hiccup and Astrid edged nearer so that they could hear Speedfist's words.

"No one knows how he survived that attack by the Dragon Lord. I mean, he was only a baby when it happened; he should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Viking with powerful Dark Magic could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, _"That's_ probably why the Dragon Lord wanted to kill him in the first place. He didn't want another tyrant _competing_ with him. I'm willing to bet his father wanted to take over as well and only pretended to be a good guy."

Hiccup had had enough of this. Clearing his throat loudly, he and Astrid stepped out from behind the bookshelves. If he hadn't been feeling so angry, he would have found the sight that greeted them funny: every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been petrified by the sight of them, and the color was rapidly draining out of Speedfist's face.

"Hello," Astrid spat, glaring daggers at the group. "We're looking for Hardbottom Highhat."

The Hufflepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Speedfist.

"What do you want with him?" Speedfist asked in a quavering voice.

"Oh, I just want to petrify him," Hiccup said sarcastically. The Hufflepuffs then quickly backed away from him, and Hiccup rolled his eyes. "I was being sarcastic. I just wanted to talk to him about what happened with that snake at the Dueling Club."

Speedfist bit his white lip and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after Hiccup spoke to it, the snake backed off?" Astrid asked.

"All I saw," Speedfist said stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was him speaking to the snake and chasing it towards Hardbottom."

"I never wanted to hurt Hardbottom," Hiccup said, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even _touch_ him."

"It was a very near miss," Speedfist said. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily. "I might tell you that you can trace my clan back nine generations of Vikings and Valkyries and my blood's as pure as anyone's so—"

"I don’t care about your damn bloodline!" Hiccup said fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns? My own best friend is a Muggle-born!"

"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," Speedfist said swiftly.

"The Dalvors hate anyone with magic or in their words _'not normal'_ ," Hiccup said. "I like to see _you_ try and live them for eleven years."

"The nicest Viking in the entire realm would despise them," Astrid added.

"Very true." He turned to Speedfist. "You can say whatever you want about me, to my face if you want, but don't you _dare_ speak about Astrid or my father like that again."

"O-or what?" Speedfist stammered. "W-what would you do?"

"You might want to be more concerned about what he won’t stop me from doing," Astrid hissed.

With that, Hiccup and Astrid stormed out of the library, earning themselves a disapproving glare from Hairy the Librarian, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spellbook.

"Idiots," Astrid grumbled. "Morons, the lot of them. They all deserve to have a hatchet thrown at their heads."

"Play nice," Hiccup muttered. "Speedfist was the main one. The rest…They were just scared. I can’t say I blame them."

Astrid sighed. "You’re right. I went a little overboard."

"Hiccup! Astrid!" a voice called. "Wait up!"

Hiccup paused and turned around. The speaker was a pretty raven-black haired girl with green eyes running out of the library towards him. The girl’s hair seemed to have been neatly brushed; it parted to the left in a sort of ponytail that lay over her shoulder. Her clothing was patched up and there was a horn strapped to her left thigh. On her right hand, Hiccup noticed the Ravenclaw tattoo on her inner wrist.

Upon seeing her, Astrid relaxed even more. "Hey, Heather."

Hiccup looked at her. "You know her?"

Astrid nodded. "We’ve been friends ever since we were kids."

"And yet you never mentioned me to him?" the girl said, feigning hurt. "How rude of you, Astrid."

"Shut up."

Heather looked at Hiccup and giggled. "You’re just like she described you…Well, a _bit_ shorter, and not as—"

"I said shut up!" Astrid squealed.

Heather laughed. "I’m kidding, Ast, relax!"

"What did you want to talk about?" Hiccup asked.

"I wanted to talk to you about the whole you being the Heir of Slytherin," she said.

Hiccup winced. "You don’t believe it, do you?"

"Of course not!" She looked genuinely offended. "It can't be you, because you, Astrid and Ragnar were at that Deathday party when Fungus was attacked, and unless you can pass through solid walls I don't see how you three got to point A to point B." Hiccup was about to ask how she knew that, but she saw that question coming. "Astrid told me. Anyway, you and her were in the Infirmary when Gustav was attacked, and it would be impossible for you to use your magic with your sword arm in a sling."

"Some people thought I set the beast on him," Astrid said.

"And some people are idiots. Your point is…?"

Hiccup laughed, relieved that he had found someone other than his friends who believed him. The three of them walked down the corridor as they talked.

"Also, if you _were_ the Heir of Slytherin, you would obviously be in Slytherin," she continued. Hiccup didn't have the heart to tell her what the Sorting Helmet had said to him. "Also you wouldn’t be friends with Ragnar, since he’s a Muggle-born."

When she mentioned Ragnar's name, Hiccup noticed that she blushed a bit, but he decided that he didn’t know her well enough to bring it up.

"I just wish more people believed me," he said sadly.

"They're scared, they want someone to blame, they'll realize their mistake soon enough," Heather assured. "Besides, this speculation works to the true Heir of Slytherin's advantage."

They turned a corner and bumped into Gobber, who was carrying a tool chest.

"Oh, hey Gobber," Hiccup said, looking up at him.

"All right', Hiccup?" he said, smiling. "Who’s she, and how come yer not in class?"

"Oh, this is Heather, and my class was cancelled," Hiccup said.

"Same here," Heather said. "Flashburn wanted to help Eydis with Mandrakes."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "I have a sneaking suspicion that there are going to be a few less Mandrakes now…"

"What're you doing in here?" Hiccup asked.

"Ah, the dragons have been acting funny an' I just been told by the headmaster to put some restraints on them so they don't hurt anyone."

Hiccup remembered that the last him he saw Toothless; he had been acting funny, as if he heard something he didn't like, and the dragon hadn’t been able to tell him what was wrong.

"I'd better go, I've got Potions next," Heather groaned.

"Yeah, and Astrid and I need to get our books on Transfiguration," Hiccup said.

With that, they went their separate ways. Hiccup and Astrid walked up the stairs and turned a corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draught which was blowing through a loose window pane. They were halfway down the passage when Astrid tripped headlong over something on the floor.

"Gah!"

Hiccup caught her, then looked over her to try and see what she'd fallen over. What he saw made his stomach clench with fear.

Hardbottom Highhat was laying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Hiccup had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Njorthr, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off, and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Hardbottom's.

"Oh gods," Astrid gasped. Hiccup helped her to her feet, his breathing fast and shallow, and his heart doing a kind of drum-roll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and wondering what to do. Should they run before someone found them, or get help? Would anyone believe that they hadn't had anything to do with this?

Astrid seemed to be having similar thoughts. "Hiccup, what are we going to do?!"

"I…"

As the two stood there, trying to figure out a plan of action, a door right next to them opened with a bang, causing Astrid to shriek and jump behind Hiccup. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

"Why, it's Hideous Haddock!" Peeves cackled, nearly knocking Hiccup to the ground as he bounced past him. "What's Haddock up to? Why's Haddock lurking—"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a mid-air somersault. Upside down spotted Hardbottom and Nearly Headless Njorthr. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Hiccup could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAACK!"

Door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Hardbottom was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Njorthr.

"Astrid, go," Hiccup hissed.

Astrid looked at him in surprise. "But—"

 _"It’ll only be worse if they see us both here!_ "

Astrid stared at him. "Hiccup…your _eyes…_ "

_"GO!"_

She shuddered as though he’d dunked her in ice, but obeyed all the same, turning on her heel and sprinting through the crowd. The chaos provided her with the perfect camouflage.

As soon as she had disappeared from view, Phlegma the Fierce came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black and white striped hair. She used her axe to create a small explosion, which restored silence, and order everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat that Speedfist arrived, panting, on the scene.

"Caught in the act!" Speedfist yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Hiccup.

"That will do, Boilson!" Phlegma said sharply.

"Where’s Astrid, eh?" the boy continued. "Send her to fetch the beast?!"

"I SAID THAT WILL DO!"

Hardbottom was carried by Speedfist and Sinistra the Astrologer to the Infirmary being followed by Alvar, who was using Wind Magic to blow Nearly Headless Njorthr like he was a black hovercraft. This left Hiccup and Phlegma alone together.

"This way, Hiccup," she said.

"But ma'am," Hiccup said at once, "I swear I didn't—"

"This is out of my hands, Hiccup," Phlegma said sadly.

They marched in silence out of the mountain and walked into the small village of house. They didn't go every far, in fact they stood at the biggest house of them all that stood just a few feet away from the mountain overlooking the small village of house in front of it.

"Sherbert lemon!" Phlegma said.

The door of the house seemed unlocked and swung open, and Hiccup noticed for the first time that the brass knocker was the shape of a Night Fury.

This new bit of knowledge told where Phlegma had taken him. This was where Alvis the Noble lived.

* * *

**This is a bad week to be Hiccup. (Granted, most weeks aren't good weeks to be Hiccup, but this one is especially bad)**

**Favorite line of chapter: "It was a short kiss, lasting only about three seconds, but damn it, they were the best three seconds of Hiccup’s entire life."**

**(Yes, because you have so many pleasant memories to choose from...)**

**Also, remember Hiccup's strange eyes from Book One? Well they're _baaack_...Oh, and something else I mentioned in Book One happened, too. And both happen around Astrid.**

**Make of that what you will.**

**Want to see some of your own ideas incorporated? Feel free to tell me; odds are, I will use this idea and it will make the series better. Credit is always given.**

**Well, I've got studying to do in the morning, so that's all for today. Tune in next week, where even _more_ things don't go Hiccup and Astrid's way!**


	12. The Polyjuice Potion

**Have you ever tried editing with a head cold? I can't recommend it.**

**In better news, we've reached 200 hits! Hurrah!**

***coughs***

**On with the chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter Twelve: The Polyjuice Potion_

* * *

Hiccup entered the house and looked back at Phlegma, expecting her to come in with him. Instead, she told him to wait inside and closed the door, leaving him to wait for Alvis by himself.

Hiccup looked around. One thing was certain: of all the teachers' houses Hiccup had visited so far this year, Alvis's was by far the most interesting. If he hadn't been scared out of his wits that he was about to be thrown out of the academy, he would have been happy to have a chance to look around it.

There were two floors; Hiccup guessed the top floor was a bedroom. The ground floor was a large, circular room full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of color-changing smoke. The walls were covered with shield portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames.

Hiccup then noticed something that got his interest. There, sitting on an enormous, claw-footed desk, sat a dented, cracked Viking helmet—the _Sorting Helmet of Valhallarama._

Hiccup hesitated. He cast a wary eye around the sleeping Vikings and Valkyries in the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if he took the helmet down and tried it on again? Just to see…just to make sure it _had_ put him in the right house…

One portrait in particular sat up straight. She was far younger than the rest, no older than twenty, and had vibrant red curls and piercing emerald green eyes. She gestured to the helmet, and with a small grin she whispered _"I won’t tell."_

Hiccup walked quietly around the desk, lifted the helmet from its shelf, and lowered it slowly onto his head. It was much larger and slipped down over his eyes, just as it had done the last time he'd put it on. Hiccup stared at the black inside of the helmet, waiting. Then a small voice said in his ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Hiccup Haddock?"

"Uh, yes," Hiccup muttered. "Uh—sorry to bother you—I wanted to ask—"

"You've been wondering whether I put you in the right house," the helmet said smartly. "Yes…you were particularly difficult to place, harder than anyone who I have sorted before. But I’m afraid I have to stand by what I said before—" Hiccup's heart leapt "—you _would_ have done well in Slytherin."

Hiccup's stomach plummeted. He grabbed the helmet by its horns and pulled it off, then pushed it back onto the shelf.

"You're wrong," he said aloud, to the still and silent helmet. It didn't move. Hiccup backed away, glancing at the redhead, whose head had tilted in obvious curiosity.

Oddly enough, though they looked nothing alike, the woman made Hiccup think of Astrid, of the look on her face when he had told her to run. She’d mentioned his eyes…whatever she had seen, it had confused her, possibly scared her, but Hiccup hadn’t given her the chance to say what his eyes had done…

What could it have been? His eyes had done something strange once before, had become dragon-like for a moment, when his uncle Björn had insulted his parents. He’d been angry then…but he hadn’t been angry this time, not towards Astrid at least…frustrated that she wasn’t listening to him, sure, but not angry…

A strange gagging noise behind Hiccup yanked him out of his thoughts. Startled, and with a dozen curse words springing to his tongue, he wheeled around to see what could have made such a horrid noise.

He wasn't alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a small, decrepit-looking dragon that Hiccup had never seen before. He had read the Book of Dragons cover to cover several times, but he couldn’t for the life of him identify what it was.

The mysterious dragon looked at him balefully, making its gagging noise again. It sounded like the cough of a dying man. "Dying" certainly fit this dragon; its eyes were dull and, even as Hiccup watched, a couple of scales began to lose their burning red color and fall off.

Hiccup was just thinking that all he needed was for Alvis’s dragon to die while he was alone in the house with it, when the dragon burst into flames.

Hiccup screamed every obscenity he knew and backed into the desk. He looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere, but he couldn't see one. He tried to absorb the flames, but they didn't respond to his commands. The dragon had become a fireball; it gave one loud, painful shriek and next second there was nothing but smoldering pile of ash on the floor.

Shakily, Hiccup ran a hand over his face. "Wonderful. Can this day get any worse?"

At that very moment, the door opened again. Alvis entered, looking somber.

"…I had to say it," Hiccup groaned. "Sir, your dragon—I couldn't do anything—he just caught fire—"

To Hiccup's astonishment, Alvis smiled.

"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days now; I’ve been telling him to get a move on all week. Still, it's such a pity you had to see him on a Burning Day."

He chuckled at the stunned look on Hiccup's face.

"Fawkes is a rare kind of dragon called a Burning Blaze. They have a very peculiar habit; they burst into flames when it is time for them to die, and are reborn from the ashes. No one has ever figured out why they do this, and it is for that reason they are a Mystery class dragon and not a Stoker class. Watch him…"

Hiccup looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, new-born dragon poke its head out of the ashes. Instead of having red scales, it had ash-black ones, and though Hiccup supposed it was a bit cute, it wasn't exactly the most attractive dragon in the world.

"How come I didn't recognize him from my Book of Dragons book?" Hiccup asked, confused.

"Ah, you've only got the first edition, which was made by Bork the Bold about three hundred years ago," Alvis explained, seating himself behind his desk. "Bork's descendants have been writing new editions every generation, putting in newly discovered dragon and changes. In fact, Gobber should be publishing his own book very soon."

Hiccup’s eyes widened. "Wait, what? Gobber is—"

"Yes, Hiccup, Gobber the Belch is Bork the Bold's great-great-great-great-grandson."

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire and leaning about Gobber's heritage, Hiccup had forgotten what he was there for, but it all came back to him as Alvis settled himself in the high-backed chair behind the desk and fixed Hiccup with his penetrating, light blue stare.

Before Alvis could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty _bang_ and Gobber burst in, a wild look in his eyes. He was still holding his tool kit.

"It wasn’t Hiccup, Alvis!" Gobber said urgently. "I was talkin' to him _seconds_ before the kid was found, he never had time, sir…"

"Gobber—"Alvis said calmly, but Gobber kept on ranting on.

"…He was with Astrid Hofferson and a girl called Heather, they can confirm it, and I’ll swear it in front o' the Dragon Ministry if I have to…"

"Gobber, I—"

"…You’ve got the wrong person, sir, I _know_ Hiccup never—"

 _"Gobber_ _the Belch!_ " Alvis said loudly. "Calm yourself! I do _not_ think that Hiccup attacked those people."

Gobber froze, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh. Right. I'll just wait outside then."

And he stomped out of the house as fast as he could.

"You don't think it was me, sir?" Hiccup repeated hopefully.

"No, Hiccup, I don't," Alvis said, though his face was somber again. "But I still want to talk to you."

Hiccup waited nervously while Alvis considered him, placing his one good hand over his axe prosthetic.

"I must ask you, Hiccup, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all."

Hiccup didn't know what to say. He thought of Snotlout shouting, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" and of the Polyjuice potion, simmering away in Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom. Then he thought of the disembodied voice he had heard twice and remembered what Astrid had said: " _Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Viking world_." He thought, too, about what everyone was saying about him, and his growing dread that he was somehow connected with Slytherin the Cunning…He thought of the look on Astrid’s face when she had seen his eyes…

"No," Hiccup said at last, careful to avoid the Headmaster’s eyes, "There isn't anything, sir."

* * *

The double attack on Hardbottom and Nearly Headless Njorthr turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real, unadulterated panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Njorthr’s fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Berk Express so that students could go home for Snoggletog.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Astrid told Hiccup and Ragnar. "It’ll just be us, Snotlout, Hjartán and Falskur. What a lovely holiday it's going to be."

Hjartán and Falskur, who always did whatever Snotlout told them, had signed up to stay over the holidays too. But Hiccup was glad that most people were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; sick of all the muttering, pointing and growling as he passed. They had begun doing the same to Astrid too, claiming that she was Hiccup’s "sole confidant" or something ridiculous like that. Astrid figured that Speedfist had spread that rumor after their little altercation in the library.

Double and Trouble, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Hiccup and Astrid down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin and his sole confidant, seriously bad Viking and Valkyrie coming through…"

Askeladden was deeply disapproving of this behavior.

"It is _not_ a laughing matter," he said coldly.

"Oh, get out of the way, Askeladden," Double said. "Hiccup and Astrid are in a hurry."

"Yeah, they’re nipping off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of coffee with their scaly servant," Trouble said, chortling.

Egill didn't find it amusing either.

"Oh, _don't_ ," he wailed every time Double asked Hiccup loudly who he was planning to attack next, or Trouble pretending to ward the two off with a large piece of iron whenever they met.

Hiccup didn't mind; it made him feel better that Double and Trouble, at least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was absurd. And Astrid thought that it was funny. But the twins’ antics seemed to be aggravating Snotlout, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

"It's because he's _bursting_ to say it's really him," Astrid said knowingly. "You know he hates anyone beating him at anything, and we’re getting all the credit for his dirty work."

"Not for long," Ragnar said in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now."

* * *

At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. Hiccup found it peaceful, rather than gloomy, even with all the dragons gone, and enjoyed the fact he, Ragnar and the Hoffersons had the run of the Gryffindor common room, which meant they could play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practice dueling in private. Double, Trouble and Egill had chosen to stay at the academy rather than visit Einar in the Barbaric Archipelago with Mr and Mrs. Hofferson. Askeladden, who disapproved of what he deemed "childish behavior", didn't spend much time in the Gryffindor common room. He had already told them pompously that _he_ was only staying over Snoggletog because it was his _duty_ as a prefect to support the teachers during this troubled time.

Snoggletog morning dawned, cold and white. Hiccup and Ragnar, the only ones left in their dormitory, were woken very early by Astrid, who burst in, fully dressed, including the hand-knitted, bright teal jumper that Mrs. Hofferson had sent her, and carrying presents for them both.

"Wake up," she called loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.

"Astrid, you could give us a bit of warning," Ragnar grumbled into his pillow.

"Merry Snoggletog to you, too," Astrid said, throwing his present at his head.

"OW!"

Astrid grinned as she placed Hiccup’s present beside him. "Is the potion is ready?"

"It should be ready after I put a few more lacewings in it."

Hiccup sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ragnar yawned, getting out of his bed with clear reluctance. "If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."

With this happy news in mind, Hiccup started opening his presents. The Dalvors had sent him a toothpick and a note telling him to find out whether he'd be able to stay at Berk for the summer holidays.

"They spend no expense on you, do they?" Astrid asked, glaring at the note with such fury that Hiccup was almost surprised it didn’t burst into flames.

The rest of Hiccup Snoggletog presents were far more satisfactory. Gobber had sent him a large tin of treacle fudge, which Hiccup decided to soften by using his Fire Magic before eating; Astrid had given him a book called _The Fearsome Harpies_ , a book of interesting facts about her favorite Dragon Racing team (And he, in turn, gave her a small book of muggle fairy tales); and Ragnar had bought him a luxury eagle-feather quill. Hiccup opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted jumper from Mrs. Hofferson, this one maroon, and a large plum cake. He put up her card with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about Mr Hofferson’s car, which hadn't been seen since its encounter with the Whomping Willow, and the bout of rule-breaking he and Astrid were planning.

* * *

No one, not even someone dreading taking a Polyjuice Potion later, could fail to enjoy Snoggletog dinner at the Berk Dragon Academy.

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Snoggletog trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Alvis led them in a few of his favorite Snoggletog songs, Gobber booming more and more loudly with every tankard of mead he consumed. Askeladden, who hadn't noticed that Double had bewitched his Prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead", kept asking them all what they were sniggering at. Hiccup didn't even care that Snotlout was making loud, snide remarks about his new jumper from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck, Snotlout would be getting his comeuppance in a few hours' time.

Hiccup and Astrid had barely finished their third helping of Snoggletog pudding when Ragnar ushered them out of the hall to finalize their plans for the evening.

"We still need a bit of the people we're changing into," Ragnar said matter-of-factly, as though he was sending them off to the supermarket for washing powder. "And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Hjartán and Falskur; they're Snotlout's best friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Hjartán and Falskur can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him."

"And how are we going to do that?" Astrid asked, crossing her arms.

"I've got it all worked out," Ragnar said, pulling out two plump chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a Sleeping Draught. It’s simple, but very powerful. All you have to do is pull out a few of their hairs for Hiccup and me and hide them in a cupboard."

"Hang on," Hiccup said. "What about Astrid?"

"I've already got my hairs," Astrid said proudly, and Ragnar pulled a tiny bottle out of his pocket. Hiccup saw a single hair inside it. "Remember the duel I had with Hilly Thickarm at the Dueling Club? Lucky for me, one of her hairs landed on my shirt when I was pulling her hair out."

"She’s gone home for Snoggletog—so Astrid just has to tell the Slytherins that she decided to come back," Ragnar explained. He then got up. "I'm going to check on the Polyjuice Potion. Just make sure they find those cakes."

When Ragnar had walked off to check on the Polyjuice Potion again, Hiccup turned to Astrid with a doom-laden expression.

"I have a feeling this plan is going to go wrong," he said.

Astrid sighed. "So do I, but this is our best chance. Shouldn’t we risk it?"

"I…I guess you’re right. Let’s do this."

* * *

A minute later, Hiccup and Astrid were outside in the Entrance Hall, hiding behind a statue. They had just placed the chocolate cakes on the floor and Astrid pulled out her axe to perform a bit of Wind Magic. Lucky for them, Alvar had begun to teach them about Wind Magic, and Astrid in particular had been doing well with the lessons. She sent out a small gust of wind to have the cakes float in mid-air.

Soon enough Hjartán and Falskur came out of the Great Hall carrying an enough cakes to have a banquet of their own. The moment they saw the floating cakes they walked up to them and grinned stupidly. Apparently they didn't think it was odd to find two floating chocolate cakes in the middle of the Entrance Hall, and ate them. A second later they both keeled over backwards onto the floor, still with greedy looks on their faces.

"How dumb can they possibly get?" Astrid asked in disbelief.

Hiccup chuckled. "What's that saying again? Ignorance is bliss?"  

It was way harder to hide them in the cupboard across the hall. Once they were safely stowed amongst the buckets and mops, Hiccup yanked out a couple of the bristles that covered Hjartán’s forehead and Astrid pulled out several of Falskur’s hairs for Ragnar, though with a disgusted look on her face. They also stole their shoes, because Hiccup and Ragnar's were far too small for Hjartán and Falskur-sized feet. Then the two of them sprinted up to Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom.

They could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the cubicle in which Ragnar was stirring the cauldron. Each putting a hand over their faces, Hiccup and Astrid knocked softly on the door.

"Ragnar, is everything alright in there?"

They heard the scrape of the lock and Ragnar emerged, looking anxious. Behind him they heard the _gloop gloop_ of the bubbling, treacle-thick potion. Three glass tumblers stood ready on the toilet seat.

"Did you get them?" Ragnar asked breathlessly.

Hiccup showed him Hjartán’s hairs.

"And next time, _you_ can pick your own hairs out," Astrid said angrily, as she gave Ragnar Falskur’s hairs and he gave her Hilly’s.

"Then _you_ can get their spare clothes out of the laundry," Ragnar said, holding up a small sack. "We'll need bigger sizes once we become Hjartán and Falskur."

The three of them stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.

"Is it _supposed_ to look like that?" Astrid asked in a disgusted tone.

"I admit, it doesn't look appetizing," Ragnar said, nervously re-reading the splotched page of _Moste Potente Potions_ , "but it looks like the book says it should…once we're drunk it, we'll have exactly one hour before we change back into ourselves and not a second over."

"What do we do now, then?" Astrid whispered.

"We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs."

Ragnar ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses. Then, his hand trembling, he added Falskur’s hair into the first glass.

The potion hissed loudly, like a boiling kettle, and frothed madly. A second later, it had turned a dark, murky brown.

"Ugh—essence of Falskur," Astrid said, eyeing it with loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting."

"Add yours, then," Ragnar said.

Hiccup dropped Hjartán’s hair into the middle glass and Astrid shook Hilly’s hair out of its bottle into the last one. Both glasses hissed and frothed: Hjartán’s turned the khaki color of a bogey; Hilly’s, a sick sort of yellow.

"Hang on," Hiccup said, as Astrid and Ragnar reached for their glasses. "We'd better not all drink them in here: once we turn into Hjartán and Falskur we won't fit. And Hilly Thickarm's no fairy."

"Good point," Astrid said, unlocking the door. "We'll take separate cubicles."

Careful not to spill a drop of his Polyjuice potion, Hiccup slipped into the middle cubicle.

"Ready?" he called.

"Ready," Astrid and Ragnar answered.

"Cheers, then."

Pinching his nose, Hiccup drank the potion down in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage.

Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes—doubled up, he wondered whether he was going to be sick—and then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes. Next, bringing him gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body bubbled like hot wax, and before his eyes, his hands began to grow, the fingers thickened, the nails broadened and the knuckles were bulging like bolts. His shoulders stretched painfully, and a prickling on his forehead told him that hair was creeping down towards his eyebrows; his shirt ripped as his chest expanded like barrel bursting its hoops; his feet were agony in shoes roughly four sizes too small; his Gryffindor tattoo faded, and he felt something burn on his neck as a Slytherin one began to appear…

As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Hiccup lay face down on the cold stone floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. With difficulty, he kicked off his shoes and stood up. So this was what it felt like, being Hjartán. His large hand trembling, he pulled off his old clothes, which were hanging a foot above his ankles, pulled on the spare ones and laced up Hjartán’s boat-like shoes. He reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes and met only the growth of wiry bristles, low on his forehead. He then called out to the others, "Are you two okay?" Hjartán’s low rasp of a voice issued from his mouth.

"Yeah," the deep grunt of Falskur came from his right.

Hiccup unlocked his door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Hjartán stared back at him out of dull, deep-set eyes. Hiccup scratched his ear. So did Hjartán.

Ragnar's door opened. They stared at each other. Except for the fact that he looked pale and shocked, Ragnar was indistinguishable from Falskur, from the pudding-basin haircut to the long, gorilla arms.

"At least we know the potion worked," Ragnar said, looking at the mirror and prodding Falskur’s flat nose. "Good thing the mirror is cracked already, or Falskur’s face could have shattered it."

"We'd better get going," Hiccup said, loosening the watch that was cutting into Hjartán’s thick wrist. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is; I hope we can find someone to follow…"

Ragnar, who had been gazing at Hiccup, said, "You know, I've never seen Hjartán think before, and it's creeping me out." He banged on Astrid's door. "Come one, we need to go…"

A high-pitched voice, nothing like Hilly Thickarm’s, answered him. "I—I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me."

"Astrid, are you alright?" Hiccup asked, worried.

"Forget about me and go, you're wasting time," Astrid reminded them.

Hiccup looked at Ragnar, bewildered.

"That's more like it," Ragnar said. "That's how Hjartán looks every time a teacher asks him a question."

"Astrid, are you sure you're okay?" Hiccup asked through the door.

"Fine—I'm fine…Go on—"

Hiccup looked at his watch. He didn’t want to leave her there, but he had no choice; five of their precious sixty minutes had already passed.

"We'll meet you back here, alright?" he said.

"R-right. See you then."

Hiccup and Ragnar opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear, and set off.

"Don't swing your arms like that," Hiccup muttered to Ragnar.

"What do you mean?"

"Falskur holds them sort of still…"

"How's this?"

"Yeah, that's better."

They went down the marble staircase. All they needed now was a Slytherin that they could follow to the Slytherin common room, but there was nobody around.

"We probably should have found out where the Slytherin common room is before taking the potion," Hiccup muttered.

"Well, the Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," Ragnar said, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words had barely left his mouth when a girl with long curly hair emerged from the entrance.

"Excuse me," Ragnar said, hurrying up to her, "we've forgotten the way to the Slytherin common room. I don't suppose you know where it is?"

"Why in Thor’s name would I know where _your_ common is?" the girl asked stiffly. " _I'm_ a Ravenclaw."

She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them.

"Please tell me that wasn't that Heather girl you told me about," Ragnar said.

"It wasn't," Hiccup assured him, "Heather’s a second year. That was a fifth year."

Ragnar heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. That is the _last_ way I would want to meet a friend of Astrid."

The two hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Hjartán and Falskur’s huge feet hit the floor, feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as they had hoped.

The labyrinthine passages were deserted. They walked deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking their watches to see how much time they had left. After a quarter of an hour, just when they were getting desperate, they heard a sudden movement ahead.

"I hope that's a Slytherin," Ragnar muttered.

It wasn't. The figure that emerged from the side room was in fact Askeladden.

"What're you doing down here?" Ragnar asked in surprise.

Askeladden looked affronted.

"That," he said stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Falskur, isn't it?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?!" Ragnar snapped, though Hiccup could see him pale slightly.

"Just get off to your dormitories," Askeladden said sternly. "It's not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days."

 _"You_ are," Ragnar pointed out.

"I," Askeladden said, drawing himself up, "am a Prefect. Nothing's about to attack _me_."

"Hjartán, Falskur!" A voice said behind them.

They looked around and saw Snotlout strolling towards them. For the first time in his life, Hiccup was relieved to see him.

"There you are," he said, glaring at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you two; I want to show you something really funny."

Snotlout glanced witheringly at Askeladden.

"And what're you doing here, Hofferson?" he sneered.

Askeladden looked outraged.

"You ought to show a bit more respect to an academy prefect!" he said, "I don't like your attitude towards me, or my sister, for that matter!"

Snotlout sneered and motioned Hiccup and Ragnar to follow him. Hiccup almost said something apologetic to Askeladden, but caught himself just in time. He and Ragnar hurried after Snotlout, who as they turned into the next passage, "That Ash Hofferson—"

"Askeladden," Ragnar corrected him automatically, earning himself an elbow to the ribs via Hiccup.

"Whatever," Snotlout said, "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed. Like anyone in the Hofferson clan could."

He gave a short, derisive laugh. Hiccup and Ragnar exchanged excited looks.

Snotlout paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

"What’s the new password again?" he said to Hiccup.

"Uh—" Hiccup said. "Er…"

"Oh, yeah, now I remember; _pure-blood!"_ Snotlout said, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Snotlout marched through it, and Hiccup and Ragnar followed him.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish torches were hanging on chains. A fire crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.

"Wait here," Snotlout said to Hiccup and Ragnar, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it—my dad's just sent it to me—"

Wondering what Snotlout was going to show them, Hiccup and Ragnar sat down, doing their best to look at home.

Snotlout came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper cutting. He thrust it under Hiccup's nose.

"That'll give you a laugh," he said.

Hiccup's eyes widened in shock. Ragnar leaned over to get a good look at it, sharing his horrified expression, but quickly gave a forced laugh. It had been clipped out of the _Daily Prophet_ , and it said:

**_ENQUIRY AT THE DRAGON MINISTRY_ **

_Bjartr the Tinkering, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car._

_Spitelout the Stern, a governor of the Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries, where the enchanted car crash earlier this year, called for Bjartr's resignation._

" _Hofferson has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Spitelout told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws, and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."_

_Bjartr the Tinkering was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set their dragons and the family ghoul on them._

"Well?" Snotlout asked impatiently, as Hiccup handed the cutting back to him with shaking fingers, "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," Hiccup and Ragnar said bleakly.

"Bjartr the Tinkering loves Muggles so much he should crush his crystal eye and join them," Snotlout said scornfully. "You'd never know the Hoffersons were pure-bloods, the way they behave. They’re an embarrassment to the name of Vikings, all of them. Well, apart from that Astrid, of course; if only she would stop avoiding me and start seeing things the right way. She’d be a lot happier for it."

Hiccup’s face contorted with fury. Unfortunately for him, Snotlout noticed this.

"What's up with you, Hjartán?" he snapped.

"Stomach ache," Hiccup grunted.

"Well, go up to the Infirmary, and give all those Mudbloods a kick for me," Snotlout said, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the _Daily Prophet_ hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Alvis’s trying to keep it quiet. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Dad's always said Alvis’s the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never let slime like that Gustav Larson, who can't even see a true Viking when he sees one."

"You're wrong!" Hiccup yelled, unable to stop himself.

Snotlout glared at him, got up and marched up to him at his full height, though he was a foot shorter than Hjartán. Ragnar looked at Hiccup nervously, worried that their cover had just been blown.

"What's that?!" Snotlout snapped. "You think there is someone worse than Alvis?!"

Hiccup had to think fast, but luckily he got the perfect someone in mind and looked at Snotlout and said, "Hiccup Haddock?"

Snotlout looked at Hiccup and nodded. "Good one, Hjartán. You’re right for once," he said sitting back in his chair.

Both Hiccup and Ragnar looked relieved.

"The great Hiccup Haddock, friend of blood traitors and mudbloods," he said slowly. "He's not only not acting the way a Viking should, being friends with  people like Ragnar Wicket, but he brainwashed my darling Astrid. You know he gave her a book of muggle fairy tales for Snoggletog? A cheap, pathetic little book written by feeble-minded scum, which no decent Valkyrie would bother with. But I caught her reading it! She doesn’t even like to read! She didn’t want the brand new necklace I so _generously_ bought for her, but something so worthless will make her smile? And people think _Useless_ is Slytherin's heir!"

Hiccup and Ragnar waited with bated breath: Snotlout was surely seconds from telling them it was him—

"I _wish_ I knew who it _is_ ," Snotlout said petulantly. "I could help them."

Ragnar looked disappointed, making Falskur look even more gormless than usual. Fortunately, Snotlout didn't notice, and Ragnar said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all…"

"You know I haven't, Falskur, how many times do I have to tell you?" Snotlout snapped. "And my dad won't tell me _anything_ about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was twenty years ago, so it was a year or two before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says it that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, at the same time that Useless’ Mudblood mother was petrified, another Mudblood _died._ So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them is killed this time…I hope it’s Wicket," he said with relish.

Hiccup was clenching Hjartán’s gigantic fists. Ragnar could clearly see that Hiccup was at his limit; he shot him a warning look and said, "Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

"Oh, yeah…whoever it was expelled," Snotlout said. "They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Um, what's Azkaban?" Hiccup repeated, puzzled.

"Azkaban— _the Viking prison_ , Hjartán," Snotlout said, looking at him in disbelief. "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards."

He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Dad says to keep my head down and let the heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the academy needs ridding of all the Mudbloods filth, but we can’t afford to get mixed up in it. But I mean, why wouldn't the heir want my help? Then again, dad's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Dragon Ministry raided our Manor last week?"

Hiccup tried to force Hjartán’s dull face into a look of concern.

"Yeah…" Snotlout said. "They didn't find much, though. Dad's got some _very_ valuable Dark Magic stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing room floor—"

Hiccup and Ragnar looked at each other, smirking. However, a second later Hiccup saw that Falskur’s black hair was turning dark brown. His fat nose was also getting smaller—their hour was up. Ragnar was turning back into himself, and from the look of horror he was suddenly giving Hiccup, he must be, too.

They jumped to their feet.

"I need to get medicine for my stomach," Hiccup grunted, and without further ado they sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stone wall and dashed up the passage, hoping against hope that Snotlout didn't think something was odd. Hiccup could feel his feet slipping around in Hjartán’s huge shoes, and he had to hoist his trouser legs up as he shrank; they crashed up the steps into the dark entrance hall, which was full of a muffled pounding coming from the cupboard where they'd locked Hjartán and Falskur. Leaving their shoes outside the cupboard door, they sprinted barefooted up the cold marble staircase towards Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom.

"Pity Astrid didn't come," Ragnar panted, closing the bathroom door behind them. "I bet once we tell her, she'll rush off to write a letter telling her dad to check under the Jorgensons' drawing room and once the dragons return she'll send it."

"Well, let's tell her the other stuff we found out," said Hiccup as he hammered on the door of Astrid's cubicle. "Astrid, come out, we've got loads to tell you—"

"Go away!" Astrid squeaked.

Hiccup and Ragnar looked at each other. They had never heard Astrid sound anything like that before.

"What's the matter?" Ragnar asked. "You should be back to normal; I mean we are…"

But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the cubicle door. Hiccup had never seen her look so happy.

"Ooooooh, wait until you see her," she said. "It's _awfu l !"_

They heard the lock slide back. Astrid emerged and both of them just stared eyes widened.

"Ragnar, you remember when you told us that the potion was only supposed to be used for human transformations, right? Well…" Astrid said.

She was covered in black fur. Her eyes had gone yellow, and there were long pointed ears poking through her still-blonde hair.

"Turns out that Hilly Thickarm isn't as pure-blooded as she made out," she grumbled. "A member of her family must have a cat, because that hair I took from her sure wasn’t human." She glanced at the two of them and then looked away. "Look at my face."

"Look at your _tail_ ," Moaning Myrtle giggled.

Ragnar looked slightly guilty. No doubt he blamed himself, because using Polyjuice Potion was his idea. He looked at her and said, "If it makes you feel any better, we know the Jorgensons' put all the Dark Magic stuff in a secret room in their drawing room."

Astrid didn’t seem to have heard him.

Hiccup, unsure what else to do, pulled her into a hug. He lifted her chin so that she was looking at him, and gave her an encouraging sort of smile. "Don’t worry, Astrid; we’ll take you to the Infirmary. Bergljot never asks too many questions…"

She looked at him for a moment. Then, slowly, she returned the smile. "I…I guess it could have been worse."

Hiccup decided, for her sake, not to mention that her teeth had sharpened considerably.

* * *

**You'd think I hate these characters with how much crap I put them through. Don't worry you two, it'll get better.**

**...After it gets worse...**

**I love them, I swear.**

**Favorite line of chapter (I'm technically cheating with this one, but whatever): Shakily, Hiccup ran a hand over his face. "Wonderful. Can this day get any worse?"**

**At that very moment, the door opened again. Alvis entered, looking somber.**

**"…I had to say it," Hiccup groaned.**

**(wa waa waaa waaah)**

**OK so I haven't heard from anyone other than Gamer Spice in a while. Please leave a comment, you guys; it really does make my day to hear from you all. And remember, you get a shout out at the end if you comment, or bookmark, or leave a kudos. (There'll also be a general thank you for the subscribers, because I don't know who you guys are. The site won't tell me)**

**Well, that's all for now. Until next week!**

**♥**


	13. The Very Secret Diary

**School is out! I'M FREE!**

**...Well, I still have three tests to do...But still! FREE!**

**And yes I know this is cutting it close, but it's still technically Monday where I live, so I'm still on schedule. Sorry, but I had sudden, last minute inspiration!**

**Onwards!**

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen: The Very Secret Diary_

* * *

Astrid remained in the Infirmary for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumor about her disappearance when the rest of the academy arrived back from their Snoggletog holidays, because people believed that she had been attacked, despite the fact that she was a pure-blood. So many students filed past the Infirmary trying to catch a glimpse of her that Bergljot took out her curtains again and placed them around Astrid's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.

Hiccup and Ragnar went to visit her every day after their lessons, Ragnar providing Astrid with meticulous notes that Hiccup had to convince her to look over. Hiccup would return to the Infirmary after dinner, and refuse to leave Astrid’s side until sunrise. Bergljot didn’t protest this; Hiccup’s presence kept Astrid happy and content, and a happy and content Astrid was far easier to deal with than an angry, uncomfortable one.

"We sent a letter to your dad," Ragnar said one evening, handing Astrid the notes he had taken in Potions. "About checking under the Jorgensons’ drawing room next time they do a raid. We made sure to tell him you overheard Snotlout saying it to Hjartán and Falskur."

"Brilliant," Astrid said with a small smile. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the fur had gone from her face and her eyes were slowly but surely turning back to their normal sapphire blue. "Have you got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Bergljot couldn't hear her.

"Nothing," Hiccup said.

Astrid sighed, slumping back against her pillows. "I was so _sure_ it was Snotlout."

"I know," Hiccup said, "He was the obvious choice. In hindsight, maybe a little _too_ obvious. We can still catch the real heir; we just need to be patient."

"How?"

"That part I don’t know."

Astrid sighed again. They had had this conversation several times already, repeating it word-for-word whenever they ran out of other things to talk about.

"What's that?" Ragnar asked, pointing to something gold that was sticking out from under Astrid's bedside table. She merely scowled at it in response.

Ragnar picked it up, flicked it open and read aloud:

" _To Miss Astrid Hofferson: I wish you a speedy recovery. With love, your concerned teacher, Flashburn the Flashmaster, Order of Haddock Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League and five times winner of Valkyrie Weekly's Most-Charming Smile Award._ "

Ragnar looked disgusted. "It’s official—Flashburn is the smarmiest bloke I’ve ever met."

"Ditto," Hiccup agreed.

Astrid’s scowl deepened. "Do me a favor and burn it, would you Hiccup?"

Hiccup complied, taking the card from Ragnar and turning it into ash, before going to the window and tossing it into the wind.

"Good riddance," Astrid said, looking a bit more cheerful now that the thing was gone.

Half an hour later, Bergljot told Hiccup and Ragnar to go back to their dormitory and do their work before dinner. They did as they were told, albeit reluctantly. Asketill had given them so much homework, Hiccup thought he was likely to be in the sixth year before he finished it. Luckily, having Ragnar Wicket for a friend had its benefits; he could tell him how many rat tails were supposed to be added to a Hair Raising potion, or how long the potion needed to boil.

All of a sudden, they heard an angry outburst from the floor above.

"That's Mildew," Hiccup muttered, as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.

"You don't think someone else's been attacked, do you?" Ragnar asked tensely.

"I hope not…if there is, we run. I don’t fancy being caught near another victim when the teachers show up."

Ragnar nodded. "Got it."

They stood still, their heads inclined towards Mildew's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.

"…even more work for me! I’ll be mopping all night! As if I haven't got enough work to do as it is! No, this is the final straw; I'm going straight to Alvis…"

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor, and they heard a distant door slam.

Cautiously, Hiccup and Ragnar poked their heads around the corner. Mildew had clearly been manning his usual look-out post: they were once again on the spot where Fungus had been attacked. They knew in an instant what Mildew had been shouting about: A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom. Now that Mildew had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle's woeful wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

_"Now_ what's up with her?" Ragnar wondered aloud.

"Let's go and see," Hiccup said, and they stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its Out of Order sign, ignored it as always, and entered.

Myrtle the Moaning was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom, likely because the torches had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

"What's up, Myrtle?" Hiccup asked.

"Who's that?" Myrtle asked, sounding quite miserable. "Come to throw something else at me, have you?!"

Hiccup waded across to her cubicle and asked, "Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me…"

"But it can't hurt if someone throws something at you," Ragnar said reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"

He had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Oh isn’t that brilliant? Say, let's all throw books at Myrtle! It's OK, _she_ can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha ha ha! What a lovely game, I _don’t_ think!"

Ragnar backed away, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Who threw it at you, anyway?" Hiccup asked.

_"I_ don't know…I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," Myrtle said, still glaring at Ragnar. "There was only one person who was ever nice to me, living _or_ dead, and now she's gone!"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hiccup said, not untruthfully. "What was her name?"

"They called her Valka," Myrtle said tearfully, "Valka the Gentle."

Hiccup almost fell over in shock.

"T-that's my mum," he gasped.

Upon hearing this, Myrtle’s jaw dropped to the floor. She then zoomed towards Hiccup and looked at him closely, which made him feel very nervous. Myrtle then pulled back, her eyes wide with shock.

"You look just like her," she said. "You’ve got the wrong eyes, but everything else is…H-how did I not notice that before…?"

Ragnar coughed, clearly uncomfortable, and the two of them looked at him. "Sorry to break this up, but where is this book you were talking about?" he asked.

"Oh, it's over there, it got washed out," Myrtle said, pointing towards one of the sinks, though her eyes never left Hiccup’s face.

Hiccup was glad to get away from Myrtle, so he and Ragnar looked under the sink Myrtle was pointing at. Sure enough, a small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Hiccup stepped forward to pick it up, but Ragnar suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.

"What?" Hiccup asked.

"Don't touch that book," Ragnar said. "It could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Hiccup repeated, unable to help laughing. "Come on, Rag, how could it possibly be dangerous?"

"I don't know," Ragnar said, looking at the book apprehensively. "There’s just…something off about it. It’s almost like…like it's alive or something."

"How can a book be alive?" Hiccup asked skeptically.

Ragnar shrugged. "The books in this world have done stranger things."

Hiccup looked back at the little book. It lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.

"Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," he said, and he ducked around Ragnar and picked it up off the floor.

Hiccup saw at once that is was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told him it was twenty years old. He opened it to the first page, and could just barely make out the name "S. G. Sidduvb" written in smudged ink.

"Found anything?" Ragnar asked.

Hiccup peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank. There wasn't the faintest trace of writing on any of them.

"He never wrote in it," Hiccup said, feeling oddly disappointed.

"So, he bought that book, but never wrote in it," Ragnar said, still eyeing the book with suspicion.

Hiccup turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store in Vauxhall Road, London.

"He must've been Muggle-born," Hiccup said thoughtfully, "to have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road…"

"I wonder who threw it away," Ragnar said.

Hiccup looked at the book, soggy and black and entirely unassuming, and asked himself the same question.

* * *

Astrid left the Infirmary, de-whiskered, tail-less and fur-free, at the beginning of February. Her teeth were still a bit pointy, but Bergljot said there was nothing she could do to fix them. Personally, Hiccup thought they made her look even more ferocious, even if they were only noticeable from up close.

On her first evening back in the Gryffindor common room, Hiccup showed her S. G. Sidduvb's diary and told her the story of how they found it.

"Wait a minute," Astrid said, taking the book from Hiccup and looking at it closely. "That name rings a bell…I've got it! S. G. Sidduvb got an award for special services to the academy twenty years ago."

"How on Midgard do you know that?" Ragnar asked, looking vaguely impressed.

"Remember when I had to polish all those trophies when I had detention with Mildew?" Astrid said; her expression soured a little at the memory. "Anyway, I remember his name because his award was the one I scorched when I suffered my final shock attack. It took forever to fix it up again…"

Hiccup noticed that Ragnar was eyeing the book with interest yet again. Hiccup had a feeling that he had come up with the same conclusion that he was thinking.

Astrid looked from one face to the other. "I have a feeling I’m missing something here…"

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened twenty years ago, wasn't it?" Ragnar said. "That's what Snotlout said."

"Yeah…" Astrid said slowly.

"And _this diary_ is twenty years old," Hiccup said, taking the book from her.

"What are you two getting at?" Astrid asked.

"Isn't it obvious," Ragnar said, rolling his eyes. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled _twenty years ago_ . We know S. G. Sidduvb got an award for special services to the academy _twenty years ago_ . Well, what if Sidduvb got his special award for _catching the Heir of Slytherin_? His diary would probably tell us everything: where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it. The person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, wouldn't they?"

"So they tossed it in Myrtle the Moaning's toilet to get rid of it?" Astrid finished. "That's a _brilliant_ theory there, guys."

Ragnar rolled his eyes. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Of course, there is one problem," Hiccup said, placing the book down on a nearby table. "Sidduvb never wrote anything in the diary."

"He could have written it in invisible ink, or placed an enchantment on it to keep people from reading it without permission," Ragnar said. "In fact…here, let me try something."

He placed his hand over the cover, and it began to glow bright blue. "Reveal your secrets."

Once his hand stopped glowing, they looked through the entire book once again, but saw nothing new.

"Sidduvb didn't write in it," Astrid said, slightly disappointed. "He must have got it for Snoggletog and decided not to write in it."

Hiccup wasn't so sure, and judging from the look on Ragnar's face, he didn't seem so certain either.

* * *

Hiccup couldn't explain, even to himself, why he didn't just throw Sidduvb's diary away. Perhaps it had been Ragnar’s belief that the book was alive, though Hiccup knew that couldn’t possibly be true. But the fact remained that, even though he knew it was blank, Hiccup kept picking the diary up and leafing through it, as though it was a story he wanted to finish. And while Hiccup was sure he had never heard the name S. G. Sidduvb before, it seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Sidduvb was a friend he'd had when he was very small, and half-forgotten. But that was absurd. He'd never had friends before he met Ragnar and Astrid; Balder had made sure of that.

Nevertheless, Hiccup was determined to find out more about Sidduvb, so next day at break, he headed for the trophy-room to examine Sidduvb's special award, accompanied by an interested Ragnar and a thoroughly unconvinced Astrid, who told them she's seen enough of the trophy-room to last her a lifetime, but still came with them on the off chance they found something.

Sidduvb's burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet. It didn't carry details of why it had been given to him ("Good thing too, or it'd be even bigger and I’d still be polishing it," Astrid grumbled). However, they did find Sidduvb's name on an old Medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.

"He sounds like Askeladden," Astrid scoffed, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Prefect, Head Boy—probably top of every class."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Ragnar said, looking slightly hurt.

* * *

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Berk again. Inside the mountain, the mood had grown hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Hardbottom and Nearly Headless Njorthr, and Eydis was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that there were fast leaving childhood.

"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for re-potting again," Hiccup heard her telling Mildew kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Fungus back in no time, never you fear."

Perhaps the heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, Hiccup thought. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the academy so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the dragon, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another twenty years…

Speedfist of Hufflepuff didn't take this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Hiccup was the guilty one, and that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club.

Flashburn, meanwhile, seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Hiccup overhead him telling Phlegma so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration.

"I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Phlegma," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught them. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on them.

"You know, what the academy needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing…"

He tapped his nose again and strode off.

Flashburn’s idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February the fourteenth. Hiccup hadn't had much sleep because of a late-running Dragon Racing practice the night before, and he hurried down to the Great Hall, slightly late. He thought, for a moment, that he'd walked through the wrong doors.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Hiccup went over to the Gryffindor table, where Ragnar and Astrid were sitting. Both of them looked as though they were about to be sick.

"What's going on?" Hiccup asked them, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon. "It looks like Barbie invaded Berk while we were asleep."

Astrid didn't get the reference ("And you don’t want to," Hiccup told her), but Ragnar got it loud and clear. He pointed at the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak.

Flashburn, wearing a lurid pink cape to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where he sat, Hiccup could see a muscle going in Phlegma's cheek; he was honestly surprised that she hadn't exploded. Asketill looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

"I wish a happy Freyja's Day to you all!" Flashburn shouted. "And may I thank the forty-five people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all—and it doesn't end here!"

Flashburn clapped his hands, and through the doors to the outside flew in fairies. The fairies were about the same size of a normal dwarf, and all of them were wearing golden dresses and carrying glittering harps.

"Ah, meet my friendly, card-carrying fairies!" Flashburn beamed. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your Freyjas! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Asketill to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Alvar knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any Viking I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Alvar buried his face in his hands. Asketill was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

All day long, the fairies kept barging into their classes to deliver Freyjas, to the annoyance of the teachers and mortification of the receivers, and later that afternoon, as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Core Magic, one of them caught up with Hiccup.

"Hey you there, Hiccup Haddock," a fairy with blonde hair said, as she floated over people to get to Hiccup.

Mortified at thought of being given a Freyjas in front of a queue of first years, which happened to include Egill Hofferson, Hiccup tried to escape. The fairy, however, flew over people's heads, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to Hiccup Haddock in person," she said, twanging her harp in a majestic sort of way.

" _Not here,_ " Hiccup hissed, trying to escape. "I’ll listen to it, sure, but _not right here._ "

"Stay _still_!" the fairy ordered. She was now not as sweet and innocent as Hiccup had originally thought, because she proceeded to use some Wing Magic to lift him off the ground.

"Let me go!" Hiccup snarled, trying to free himself from the wind.

Suddenly all his books, parchment and quill spilled out of his satchel and landed on the floor and his ink bottle smashed over the lot.

Hiccup scrambled around, trying to get out of the Wind Magic that was keeping him up loft before the fairy could sing, causing something of a hold-up in the corridor.

"What's going on here?" the cold, drawling voice of Snotlout demanded. Hiccup started squirming around even more, desperate to get away before Snotlout could hear his musical Freyjas.

"What's all this commotion?" another familiar voice said, as Askeladden Hofferson arrived.

"Right," she said, flying up to him, "Here is your singing Freyjas."

She strummed her harp and began to sing:

_With eyes of emerald, and heart of gold._

_Courageous as those in the stories of old._

_I wish he was mine, for he's truly divine,_

_The hero who vanquished the Dragon Lord._

Hiccup would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the spot. Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else, he landed back onto the floor, picking up everything that had fallen out of his satchel, as Askeladden Hofferson did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooting some of the younger students away. " _And_ you, Snotlout—"

Hiccup, glancing over, saw Snotlout stoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Hjartán and Falskur, and Hiccup realized that he'd got Sidduvb's diary.

"Give that back," Hiccup said quietly.

"Wonder what Useless has written in this?" Snotlout asked his friends, obviously not noticing the year on the cover, and thinking he had Hiccup's own diary. A hush fell over the onlookers. Egill was staring from the diary to Hiccup, looking terrified.

"Hand it over, Snotlout," Askeladden said sternly.

"When I've had a look," Snotlout said, waving the diary tauntingly at Hiccup.

Askeladden began, "As an academy—", but Hiccup lost his temper. He pulled out his sword and sent a stream of fire that took the form of a giant fist. The giant fist slammed into Snotlout, sending him backwards and causing the dairy to fly into the air. Astrid, smiling slyly, caught it.

"That’s Hiccup three hundred and twelve, Snotlout zero," she called. Smirking at Snotlout, she added "Better luck next time, git."

"Astrid, watch your language!" Askeladden yelled. "And Hiccup, you know you aren’t supposed to do magic in the corridors! I’ll have to report this, you know!"

But Hiccup didn't care, he'd gotten one over Snotlout, and that was worth a detention any day. Snotlout was looking furious, and as Egill passed him to enter his classroom, he yelled spitefully after him, "Trying to make it look like your sister sent that Freyjas to Useless was a dumb move!"

Egill covered his face with his hands and all but ran into his class. Astrid glared at Snotlout and pulled out her axe, but Hiccup pulled her away.

"It’s not worth it," he muttered.

It wasn't until they had reached Alvar’s class that Hiccup noticed something rather odd about Sidduvb's diary. All his other books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it.

"Astrid, look…" he said quietly.

Astrid peered at the unstained diary. "Hmph. Looks like this thing was more magical than we thought…" She looked back at him. "I take it we’ll be examining this after dinner?"

Hiccup grinned. "Took the words right out of my mouth, Milady."

* * *

They went to Hiccup’s dormitory before anyone else finished dinner that night. This was partly because Hiccup didn't think he could stand Double and Trouble singing, " _With eyes of emerald and heart of gold_ ", one more time. They’d even made up a little dance routine to go with it. He sincerely wished Egill wouldn't continue to try and get him and Astrid together; he already got enough teasing and not-so-subtle pushes from Ragnar as it was, he didn’t need any more. Speaking of Ragnar, he was busy doing the homework that Alvar had given them about the _Art of Fire Magic_. Normally Hiccup would have been down there with him (it was easy for him, after all), but the diary was far more interesting.

They sat across from each other on his wooden bed and flicked through the blank pages, not one of which had a trace of scarlet ink on it.

Astrid groaned. "I don’t get it, Hiccup. I’ve never, _ever_ heard of a book that ink can’t stain. Why the Helheim would someone throw it away?"

Hiccup shrugged. He pulled a new bottle of ink out of his bedside cabinet, dipped his quill into it, and dropped a blot onto the first page of the diary.

"Hiccup, what are you—"

The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished.

"O…K then…" Astrid said slowly. "Ask a dumb question, get a dumb answer."

Excited, Hiccup loaded up his quill a second time and wrote, "My name is Hiccup Haddock. Beside me is Astrid Hofferson."

The words shone momentarily on the page and they too sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened.

Oozing back out of the page, in his own ink, words Hiccup had never written appeared.

" _Hello, Hiccup Haddock and Astrid Hofferson. My name is Sven Sidduvb. How did you come by my diary?"_

These words too, faded away, but not before Hiccup had started to scribble back.

"Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."

He waited eagerly for Sidduvb's reply.

" _It’s lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."_

"What do you mean?" Hiccup scrawled, blotting the page in his excitement.

" _First, tell me; are you related to Stoick Haddock?"_

"Why does he want to know that?" Astrid asked, looking suspicious.

"Yes, I’m his son," Hiccup wrote. "Astrid wants to know why you’re asking."

" _Because I know him—or rather, I_ **_knew_ ** _him. But let’s get back to the matter at hand. This diary holds memories of terrible things. Terrible things happened in my time, things that everyone tried to cover up, and they happened right here, at the Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries."_

"That's where we are now," Hiccup wrote quickly. "We’re at Berk, and horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

His heart was hamming. Sidduvb's rely came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell them all he knew.

" _Of course I know the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend; that it simply did not exist. But that was a lie. In my sixth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber, and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Magnus the Great, was ashamed that such a thing had happened at Berk, and he forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The dragon lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned._ "

Hiccup nearly upset his ink bottle in his hurry to write back.

"It's happening again now. There have been three attacks, and no one seems to know who's behind them. Who was it last time?"

" _I can show you, if you like_ ," Sidduvb's reply came. " _You don't have to take my word for it. I can take the two of you inside my memory of the night when I caught him._ "

Astrid frowned. "Hiccup, I don’t like this."

At her words Hiccup hesitated, his quill suspended over the diary. What did Sidduvb mean? How could he taken inside somebody else's memory? He glanced nervously over Astrid shoulder at the door to the dormitory, which was growing dark. When he looked back at the diary, he saw fresh words forming.

" _Please, let me show you._ "

Hiccup paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters.

"OK."

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouths hanging open, Hiccup and Astrid saw that the little square for June the thirteenth seemed to have turned a miniscule television screen. His hands trembling slightly, Hiccup raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forwards; the window was widening, he felt his body leave his bed, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.

He felt his feet hit solid ground, Astrid joining him a few moments later. They stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around them came suddenly into focus.

Hiccup knew immediately where they were. This room was filled with sleeping portraits was Alvis’s office—but it wasn't Alvis who was sitting behind the desk. It was the Viking that looked a lot like his father, only older and with several more grey hairs. He was reading a letter by candlelight.

Hiccup was about to speak, but a voice behind him called, "You wanted to talk to us, sir?"

Hiccup and Astrid jumped. Looked behind them they saw two students who looked to be third years. One was a boy who Hiccup recognized straight away—his father. The other one, however, was a girl with thick brown hair tied back in a bun. They both looked worried.

"Yes, it's about Valka and that poor girl with her," the old Viking said. "Do you two have any idea what happened, Phlegma?"

Astrid gaped. " _That’s_ Phlegma?!"

She promptly clamped her hand over her mouth, but no one else reacted.

Hiccup looked at the young Phlegma and understood what was going on. He and Astrid had somehow entered the headmaster's house twenty years in the past.

"No, sir, it's just like we said. She went to the bathroom by herself. She was taking a long time, so I went to see what was wrong, and I found the girl dead and Valka petrified," the young Phlegma said.

"I think she was getting close to finding out who the heir of Slytherin is, dad," young Stoick added, looking tense and even a bit fearful. Hiccup could understand that; he thought of how _he_ would feel, if it was _Astrid_ who lay petrified.

…Wait, what had his dad just called the older Viking?

This sudden bit of news shocked him the most so far. He looked at the old Viking, who was apparently his grandfather, speechless.

"No doubt, son," his grandfather said.

Astrid looked from Magnus the Great to young Stoick to Hiccup. "…Y’know, everyone talks about how much you look like your mum, but I can really see the Haddock family resemblance."

Before Hiccup could say anything in response, there was a knock on the house door.

"Enter," Magnus called.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his Viking helmet. A silver prefect badge was glinting on his chest and strapped to his back was a long bullhook. He was much taller than Hiccup and had long, slick jet black hair.

"Ah, Sidduvb," Magnus said.

"Great, _him_ ," Stoick muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs from Phlegma.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Sidduvb asked. He looked nervous.

"Yes, but this is a private matter about the letter you sent me," Magnus said.

"Oh," Sidduvb said. He seemed to have relaxed a bit.

"Stoick, Phlegma go back to your common room," Magnus said. Both Stoick and Phlegma turned to leave, but before they stepped outside, he added, "Oh…and Stoick? Try and not get into trouble today."

"No promises," Stoick said, glaring at Sidduvb as he left with Phlegma.

Sidduvb looked at Magnus and said, "Your son is quite unique."

"You have no idea," Magnus sighed, rubbing his forehead. "That boy and his friends get into more trouble than anyone in the history of this academy."

"Unlikely," a portrait called. Hiccup recognized it as the redhead who had encouraged him to put on the Sorting Helmet. "I seem to recall yeh gettin’ into just as much trouble as him when yeh were a lad, Magnus…"

"Yes, thank you for the input, Val," Magnus said.

"Oi, that’s Valhallarama to yeh, if yer goin’ to use _that_ sort o’ tone…"

Astrid giggled. "I like her already."

"Ahem," Sidduvb said, clearly feeling awkward.

"My apologies, Sven," Magnus said kindly, though he shot Valhallarama another glare (and she, in turn, stuck her tongue out at him). "Let's talk about you. I cannot possibly let you stay at the academy over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," Sidduvb said at once. "I'd much rather stay at Berk than go back to that—to that—"

"Orphanage," Magnus finished. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Sven."

"Yes, sir," Sidduvb said, reddening slightly.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," Sidduvb said. "Father was a muggle, mother was a Valkyrie."

"And both you parents are—?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me: Sven after my father, Grim after my grandfather."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Magnus said with sympathy. "However, Sven, with everything going on…"

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" Sidduvb said.

"Precisely," Hiccup’s grandfather said. "You must see lad, how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the academy when term ends. Particularly in the light of the recent tragedy that has struck us… the death of that poor little girl… Parents wouldn't want to bring their children here and I can't say I blame them. As we speak the Dragon Ministry is talking about closing the academy. We are no nearer locating the—uh—source of all this unpleasantness…"

Sidduvb's eyes had widened.

"Sir—if the person was caught…If it all stopped…"

"What do you mean?" Magnus said, sitting up in his chair. "Sidduvb, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Sidduvb quickly.

But Hiccup was sure it was the same sort of "no" that he himself had given Alvis.

Magnus sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

"You may go, Sven…"

Sidduvb turned around and stumped out of the house. Hiccup and Astrid followed him. Faintly, Hiccup thought he could hear his ancestors hiss "I don’t believe him…"

They walked up the steps leading to the Grand Mountain. Sidduvb stopped in front of the doors leading to the Great Hall, and so did Hiccup and Astrid, watching him. Hiccup could tell that Sidduvb was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he entered the Great Hall, Hiccup and Astrid gliding noiselessly behind him. They walked through the door that lead them into the Entrance Hall, where they met a tall, musical Viking with one hand, sweeping auburn hair and beard with several greys in it called to Sidduvb from the marble staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Sven?"

Hiccup guessed at once who this Viking was. He was none other than a twenty-year-younger Alvis.

"I had to see the Headmaster, sir," Sidduvb said.

"Well, hurry off to bed," Alvis said, giving Sidduvb exactly the kind of penetrating stare Hiccup knew so well. "It is best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…"

He sighed heavily, bade Sidduvb goodnight and strode off. Sidduvb watched him out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Hiccup and Astrid in hot pursuit.

But to their disappointment, Sidduvb led them not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but the very dungeon in which Hiccup had Potions with Asketill. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Sidduvb pushed the door almost closed, Hiccup could only just see Sidduvb, standing stock-still by the door watching the passage outside.

It felt to Hiccup that they were there for at least an hour. All he could see was the figure of Sidduvb at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Hiccup had stopped feeling expectant and tense, and started wishing he could return to the present, he heard something move beyond the door.

Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Sidduvb were hidden. Sidduvb, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Hiccup and Astrid tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that they couldn't be heard.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Sidduvb stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Hiccup heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"Calm down…Nothing' going' to hurt you…c'mon now…in the box…"

There was something familiar about that voice.

Sidduvb suddenly jumped around the corner. Hiccup and Astrid stepped out behind him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large trunk next to it.

"Evening, Gobber," Sidduvb said sharply.

Hiccup gasped and looked at the young Gobber. He still had his arm and leg, and had a full head of hair. Gobber the boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What are you doing' down here, Sidduvb?"

Sidduvb stepped closer.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Gobber. Stoick and his friends can't save you now. They're talking about closing Berk if the attacks don't stop."

"What d'yeh—"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But mechanic beasts don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—"

"He never killed anyone!" Gobber said, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Hiccup could hear a funny scraping sound.

"Come on, Gobber," Sidduvb said, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Berk can do it make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…"

"It wasn’t him," Gobber roared, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "I didn't build him teh kill anyone! He’d never!"

"Stand aside," Sidduvb said, drawing his bullhook with a black crystal eye in it.

He sent a powerful gust of wind along the corridor. The door behind Gobber flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out it came a small mechanical dragon.

The mechanical dragon was built a lot like a Speed Stinger; a speedy, flightless dragon with a poisoned tail, from which even one cut could paralyzed a human and dragon for hours. Sidduvb raised his bullhook and fired several icicles at the mechanical dragon, but it moved so fast that Hiccup could barely see it. Sidduvb was about to slam his bullhook into the ground no doubt to do some Earth Magic, but an ice wall came in-between him and the mechanical dragon.

Sidduvb, Hiccup and Astrid turned around to see Gobber holding his hammer with dark grey crystal eye in it. He glared at Sidduvb and said, "Yeh want to get teh him? Yeh have teh go through _me_ first."

"Fine by me," Sidduvb said, pointing his bullhook at him.

As the two began their duel, the scene whirled, the darkness became complete, Hiccup felt himself falling and with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on his wooden bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, Astrid right beside him, Sidduvb's diary lying open in-between them.

Before they had had time to regain their breath, the dormitory door opened and Ragnar came in.

_"There_ you are, Hiccup. Astrid, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in bed," he said.

Astrid sat up. She was sweaty and shaking.

"What's the matter?" Ragnar asked, looking at her in concern.

"It was Gobber, Rag," She said, her voice wavering like a flute, " _Gobber_ opened the Chamber of Secrets twenty years ago."

* * *

**dun Dun DUN!**

**Oh Astrid, if only it were that simple...Eh, you'll find out the truth soon enough.**

**Favorite line of chapter: "That’s Hiccup three hundred and twelve, Snotlout zero," she called. Smirking at Snotlout, she added "Better luck next time, git."**

**(Yes hello police I'd like to report shots fired)**

**Leave a comment, send in an idea, you all know the drill.**

**Until next week, my friends!**


	14. Fudge the Mighty

**Who the Helhiem names their kid Fudge? That's a horrible name.**

***Watches The Stupidest Names On Earth (Normal, Celebrity & Youtube Names)***

**...Never mind.**

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen: Fudge the Mighty_

* * *

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar had always known that Gobber had an unfortunate habit of making mechanical creatures. During their first year at Berk he had made a giant robotic dog named "Rover". And if, as a boy, Gobber had heard that a mechanical dragon was hidden somewhere in the castle, Hiccup was sure he'd have gone to any lengths for a glimpse of it. He'd probably thought that it needed oiling or something, and thought he should do it himself; Hiccup could just imagine the thirteen-year-old Gobber trying to replace its nuts and bolts. But he was equally certain that Gobber would never have meant to kill anybody.

Hiccup half wished he hadn't found out how to work Sidduvb's diary. Again and again Ragnar made Astrid and him recount what they'd seen, until they were heartily sick of telling him, and even more so of the long, circular conversations that followed each time.

"Sidduvb _might_ have got the wrong person," Ragnar said. "Maybe it was some other dragon that was attacking people…"

"How many dragons do you know of that can live over a thousand years?" Astrid asked dully.

"Well…Um…I’veneveractuallyheardofany…"

"Exactly."

"We always knew Gobber had been expelled," Hiccup said miserably. "And the attacks must've stopped after Gobber was kicked out. Otherwise, Sidduvb wouldn't have got his award."

"At least we know why there was no mention of this on the trophy," Ragnar said.

"Yeah, my grandfather probably thought it wouldn’t look good if his son was friends with the guy attacking Muggle-borns," Hiccup said.

Astrid tried a different track.

"Sidduvb _does_ sound like Askeladden—who asked him to grass on Gobber, anyway?"

"But the dragon had _killed_ someone, Astrid," Ragnar said.

"And Sidduvb was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Berk," Hiccup said. "I don't blame him for wanting to stay here…"

Astrid bit her lip, then said tentatively,

"You met Gobber down Knockturn Alley, didn't you, Hiccup?"

"He was buying leather," Hiccup said. His tone left no room for any argument to the contrary.

The three of them fell silent. After a long pause, Ragnar voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice: "Do you think we should go and _ask_ Gobber about it all?"

"That'll be a fun visit," Hiccup deadpanned. "Hi, Gobber, tell us, have you been setting a robotic dragon loose in the mountain lately?"

In the end, they decided that they wouldn't say anything to Gobber unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Hardbottom and Nearly Headless Njorthr had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Even Speedfist, who still believed Hiccup was the culprit, had asked him quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day (though Ragnar suspected this may have been because Astrid had been standing behind Hiccup with her teeth bared), and in March several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in Barn House Three. This made Eydis very happy.

"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told Hiccup. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the Infirmary."

* * *

The second years were given something new to think about during their Thor holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for third year, a matter that Ragnar, at least, took very seriously.

"It could affect our whole future," he told Hiccup and Astrid, as they pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

"I just want to give up Potions," Hiccup said.

"Well you can't," Astrid said sadly. "We have to keep all our current subjects until year six. Otherwise, I would’ve ditched Combat Arts."

"It’s an important subject," Ragnar muttered, not looking up from his list.

Hiccup snorted. "Not the way Flashburn teaches it. I haven't learned anything of use from him, other than the sage "Deadly Nadders have standards" lesson we got from Stormfly."

"I have to agree with him on that, Rag," Astrid said, placing her list down and stretching. "And Jarl the Quivering wasn't much better. At this rate I’m about ready to start teaching Combat Arts myself."

"You’d be everyone’s favorite teacher," Hiccup said with a grin. "The entire school would want to be in your classes."

Astrid laughed. "Flattery would get you nowhere in that class, _Mister Haddock_."

"Flattery, Miss Hofferson? I’m merely stating the truth."

Ragnar rolled his eyes. "Will you two please get a room?"

Astrid smacked him upside the head.

"OW!"

"Why is it always violence with you, Milady?" Hiccup asked, trying not to laugh at the look on Ragnar’s face.

"It’s not violence, it's communication."

"And just what were you trying to communicate?" Ragnar grunted.

Astrid smiled. "Mind your own business."

Fishlegs had been sent letters from all the Vikings and Valkyries in his clan, all giving him different advice on what to choose. Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with his tongue poking out, asking people whether they thought Arithmancy sounded more difficult than the study of Ancient Runes. Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who, like Hiccup, had grown up with Muggles, ended up simply choosing at random. Ragnar took nobody's advice but signed up for everything.

Hiccup smiled grimly to himself at the thought of what Uncle Björn and Aunt SkaÐi would say if he tried to discuss his career in magic with them. Not that he didn’t get any guidance; Askeladden Hofferson was eager to share his experience.

"Depends where you want to _go_ , Hiccup," he said. "It's never too early to think about the future, so I'd recommend Soothsaying. People say Muggle Studies is a soft option, but I personally think Vikings should have a thorough understanding of the non-magical community, particularly if they're thinking of working in close contact with them—look at my father, he has to deal with Muggles business all the time. My brother Einar was always studying different metal and making something out of them, so he went for Forging. Play to your strengths, Hiccup."

But the only thing Hiccup felt he was really good at was Dragon Racing. In the end, he and Astrid agreed to take the same new subjects, Forging and Soothsaying, so that if they were lousy at them, at least they’d have each other for support.

* * *

Gryffindor's next Dragon Racing match would be against Hufflepuff. Eret was insisting on team practices every night after dinner, so that Hiccup barely had time for anything but Dragon Racing and homework. However, the training sessions were getting better, or at least drier, and the evening before Saturday's match, he went up to the dragon stables to drop off Toothless feeling Gryffindor's chances for the Dragon Racing cup had never been better.

But his cheerful mood didn't last long. At the top of the stairs to the Great Hall came Fishlegs, frantic and running as fast as his skinny legs could carry him.

"H-h-hiccup," he wheezed, "I don't know wh-who did it. I… Just c-come with m-me, see it for yourself."

They both ran into the mountain, up the marble staircase and into Gryffindor common room. They went up to the boys' dormitory, and Fishlegs pushed open the door.

The contents of Hiccup's trunk had been thrown everywhere. His cape lay on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off his wooden bed and the drawer had been pulled out of his bedside cabinet, the contents strewn over the mattress.

Hiccup walked over to the bed, open-mouthed, treading on a few loose pages of _Travels with Trolls_. As he and Fishlegs pulled the blankets back onto his bed, Ragnar, Wartihog and Tuffnut came in. Wartihog swore loudly.

"What in the name of Thor happened, Hiccup?"

"No idea," Hiccup said. But Ragnar was examining Hiccup's fur vest. All the pockets were hanging open.

"Looks like someone's been looking for something," Ragnar said.

Hiccup started to pick up all his things and throw them into his trunk. It was only as he threw the last of Flashburn's books back into it that he realized what wasn't there.

"And they found it," he said in an undertone to Ragnar. "Sidduvb's diary is gone."

" _What?_ "

Hiccup jerked his head towards the dormitory door and Ragnar followed him out. They hurried back down to the Gryffindor common room, which was half-empty, and joined Astrid, who was sitting alone, reading the book of muggle fairy tales Hiccup had given her.

Astrid looked shocked at the news.

"But—only a Gryffindor could have stolen—nobody else knows the password…"

"Exactly," Hiccup said.

* * *

They woke next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

"Perfect Dragon Racing conditions!" Eret said enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs. "Hiccup, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast."

"Yeah, but don't over feed him, or he might get sick," Astrid said, sneaking a kipper off of Hiccup’s plate.

Absentmindedly, Hiccup swatted her hand away. He had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, wondering if the new owner of Sidduvb's diary was right in front of his eyes. Ragnar had been urging him to report the robbery, but Hiccup didn't like the idea. He'd have to tell a teacher all about the diary, and how many people knew why Gobber had been expelled twenty years ago? He didn't want to be the one who brought it all up again.

As he left the Great Hall with Astrid and Ragnar to go and get Toothless, another, very serious worry was added to Hiccup's growing list. He had just set foot on the staircase leading to the grounds when he heard it yet again—

_"Kill this time…let me rip…tear…"_

He shouted aloud. Astrid tensed up, and Ragnar jumped away from them in alarm.

"Hiccup, what’s—"

"It was the voice!" Hiccup exclaimed, looking over his shoulder, "I just heard it again—you heard it too, didn’t you Astrid?"

Astrid nodded.

Ragnar clapped a hand to his forehead.

"How could I be so stupid," he muttered. "Hiccup—I believe I'm just understood something! I've got to go to the library!"

And he sprinted away, up the stairs and out of sight.

"Why does he need to go to the library?" Hiccup said distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.

"Because that's what Ragnar does," Astrid muttered. She was peering at the wall behind him, as though she thought it would suddenly crack open and reveal the monster. "When in doubt, go to the library."

They stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind them, talking loudly, walking down the steps making their way to the Dragon Racing pitch. In fact the only thing Hiccup was sure was that voice was coming below ground, but that didn’t seem possible.

"We’d better get moving," Astrid said reluctantly. "It's nearly eleven—the match."

They both rushed over to the stables to get on their dragons. They got there in record time, only to find the dragons acting strange. It looked as if they were trying to get away from something, but what it was, they were unable to say. After three minutes, Hiccup finally managed to calm Toothless down enough to get on his back. Astrid, however, had no such luck with Stormfly.

 _"Not…good…"_ the dragon kept saying, her tail twitching as though she was about to shoot out spines. _"Too dangerous…flee now…"_

"What is it?" Astrid asked, seemingly caught between concern and annoyance. "C’mon girl, what’s making you act so crazy?"

_"Don’t…know…"_

Astrid gave up, and climbed behind Hiccup on Toothless’s back. They flew over towards the pitch, but Hiccup’s mind was still on the mountain and the bodiless voice. Once they got there, Astrid went up to the stands and Hiccup went to the changing room to put his face paint on.

The teams flew up onto the pitch to tumultuous applause. Eret and Skullcrusher took off for a warm up flight around the basket; Madam Flyheart released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who had on canary yellow face paint, were in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics.

But before the match could begin, Phlegma the Fierce came flying into the center of the pitch on Cloudjumper (a Stormcutter that had once belonged to Hiccup’s mother), carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

Hiccup's heart dropped like a stone.

"This match has been cancelled," Phlegma called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Eret, looking devastated, flew over to Phlegma.

"But ma'am!" he shouted, "We've got to play…the cup… _Gryffindor_ …"

Phlegma ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone: "All students are to make their way back to the house common rooms, where their Head of House will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Hiccup over to her.

"Hiccup, I think you'd better come with me…"

Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Hiccup saw Astrid running towards them; she grabbed a hold of Toothless’s tail and heaved herself up onto his back once more. To Hiccup's surprise, Phlegma didn't object.

"Yes, you'd better come too, Astrid…"

Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being cancelled, while others looked worried. Hiccup and Astrid followed Phlegma back to Berk and towards the village. In fact, Phlegma didn't even tell them to leave Toothless at the stables, and they weren’t taken to anyone's house this time.

"This will be a bit of a shock," said Phlegma in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the Infirmary. "There has been another attack…another _double_ attack."

Hiccup’s insides did a horrible somersault. Astrid’s face became almost deathly pale. Phlegma pushed the Infirmary door open, and they entered.

Bergljot the Helpful was bending over a sixth year girl with long, curly hair. Hiccup recognized her as the Ravenclaw he and Ragnar had accidentally asked for directions to the Slytherin common room. And on the bed next to her was—

"Ragnar!" Hiccup and Astrid gasped.

Ragnar lay utterly still, his eyes open and glassy.

"They were found near the library," Phlegma said. "I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them."

She held up a small, circular mirror.

Numbly, Hiccup and Astrid shook their heads, still staring at Ragnar’s rigid form.

Phlegma sighed. "Very well. I will escort you back to the Gryffindor common room. I need to address the students in any case."

* * *

"All students will return to their house common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Dragon Racing training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activates."

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Phlegma in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the academy will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.

"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff," the Hofferson twins' friend Lock Jordson said, counting on his fingers. "Haven't _any_ of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it _obvious_ all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The _heir_ of Slytherin, the _monstrous dragon_ of Slytherin—why don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?" he roared, to nods and scattered applause.

Askeladden Hofferson was sitting in a chair behind Lock, but for once he didn't seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.

"He’s in shock," Trouble told Hiccup quietly. "That Ravenclaw girl—Clearwater Puddleson—she's a prefect. I don't think he thought that dragon would dare attack a _prefect_."

But Hiccup was only half-listening. He didn't seem to be able to get rid of the picture of Ragnar, lying on the healing bed as though he was carved out of stone. And if the culprit wasn't caught soon, he was looking at a lifetime back with the Dalvors. Sven Sidduvb had turned Gobber in because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the school closed. Hiccup now knew exactly how he had felt.

"What're we going to do?" Astrid said quietly in Hiccup's ear. "Do you think they suspect Gobber?"

"We've got to go and talk to him," Hiccup said, making up his mind. "I can't believe it's him this time, but if he set the monster loose last time, he'll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that's a start."

"But Phlegma said we've got to stay in our common room unless we're in class—"

"I think," Hiccup said, more quietly still, "it's time to get my dad's old cape out again."

* * *

Hiccup had inherited just one thing from his father: a long and silvery Invisibility Cape. It was their only chance of sneaking out of the academy to visit Gobber without anyone knowing about it. Hiccup went to bed at the usual time, waited until Fishlegs, Wartihog and Tuffnut had stopped discussing the Chamber of Secrets and finally fallen asleep, then got up, dressed, and grabbed the cape. He went downstairs, where Astrid was waiting for him, and they threw the cape over themselves.

The journey through the dark and deserted corridors was far from enjoyable. Hiccup, who had wandered the corridors several times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset. Teachers, prefects and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs, staring around for any unusual activity. Their Invisibility Cape didn't stop them making any noise, and there was a particularly tense moment when Astrid accidently stepped on his toe only yards from the spot where Asketill stood standing guard. Thankfully, Asketill sneezed at almost exactly the moment he swore. It was with great relief that they reached Gobber's house.

They entered, and quietly removed the cape. They then came face to face with a crossbow being held by Gobber. He was about to pull the trigger, but stopped when he realized who it was.

"Oh," he said, lowering the crossbow. "What're yeh two doin' here? Yer supposed to be in yer common room."

"We need to talk to you," Astrid said.

Gobber grumbled and told them to sit down while he made some coffee. They saw Grump sleeping next to the forge peacefully, as though nothing dangerous was happening.

Gobber hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He nearly extinguished the fire, spilling water from the kettle on it, and then smashed the jug with a nervous jerk of his massive hand.

"Are you okay, Gobber?" Hiccup asked. "Did you hear about Ragnar?"

"Oh, I heard, all right," Gobber said, a slight break in his voice.

"Listen Gobber we want to know if you—that is to say if you have an idea—" Hiccup began nervously.

"Do you know where the Chamber of Secrets is?" Astrid asked bluntly.

Gobber almost dropped the coffee mug. "What?"

Hiccup jabbed his elbow into Astrid’s stomach. "Subtly, Milady, ever heard of it?"

Astrid shrugged. "Not much point in beating around the bush. We want answers, don’t we?"

Gobber looked from one face to the other, and heaved a sigh.

"Listen to me, what yeh two need teh understand is that—"

But what it was, they never found out, because at that moment there was a knock at the door.

Gobber looked panic-stricken. "Quick, hide! They can’t know yer here!"

Without a second thought, Hiccup and Astrid threw the Invisibility Cape over themselves and retreated into a corner. The door creaked open.

"Good evening, Gobber."

It was Alvis. He entered looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd-looking man.

The stranger was a short, portly man with rumpled grey hair and an anxious expression. He was wearing an ornate Viking helmet, a majestic looking cape and thick fur boots. Strapped to his thigh was a longsword.

"That's Dad’s boss!" Astrid breathed. "Fudge the Mighty! He's the Chief of the Dragon Ministry!"

Gobber had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from Alvis to Fudge.

"Bad business, Gobber," Fudge said, in rather clipped tones. "Oh, yes, it’s very bad business. I had no choice but to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things have gone far enough. Ministry's got to act."

"But I've never," Gobber said, looking imploringly at Alvis, "you know I never, Alvis…"

"I want it understood, Fudge, that Gobber has my full confidence," Alvis said, frowning at Fudge.

"Look, Alvis," Fudge said, clearly uncomfortable. "Gobber's record is against him. Ministry's got to do _something_ —the academy governors have been in touch—"

"Yet again, Fudge, I tell you that taking Gobber away will not help in the slightest," Alvis said. His blue eyes were full of a fire Hiccup had never seen before.

"Look at it from my point of view," Fudge said, fidgeting with his longsword. "I'm under a lot of pressure. I’ve got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn't Gobber, he'll be back and no more said. But I've got to take him. I simply have to. Wouldn't be doing my duty—"

"Take me?" Gobber repeated, trembling, "Take me where?"

"For a short stretch only," Fudge said, not meeting Gobber’s eyes. "Not a punishment, Gobber, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you'll be let out with a full apology and will be clear of all charges…"

"Not Azkaban?" Gobber croaked.

Before Fudge could answer, another figure entered the house.

Hiccup almost gave themselves away, but Astrid stopped him by elbowing him in ribs as hard as she could.

Spitelout the Stern strode into Gobber's house, swathed in a long black travelling cape, smiling a cold and satisfied smile. Grump must not have liked Spitelout; he woke up and growled choice insults at him.

"Already here, Fudge," he said approvingly, "Good, good…"

"What're yeh doin' here?" Gobber demanded furiously. "Get outta meh house!"

"Believe me Gobber, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your—uh—do you call this a house?" Spitelout said, sneering as he looked around the messy workshop. "I simply called at the school and was told that the Headmaster was here."

"And what exactly did you want with me, Spitelout?" Alvis said. He spoke politely, but the fire was still blazing in his pale blue eyes.

" _Dreadful_ thing, Alvis," Spitelout said lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, "but the other governors and I feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension—you'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn't it? At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Berk, and we all know what an _awful_ loss that would be to the academy."

"Oh, now, see here, Spitelout," Fudge said, looking alarmed, "Alvis suspended… no, no…that’s the very last thing we want just now…"

"The appointment—or suspension—of the Headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge," Spitelout said smoothly. "And as Alvis has failed to stop these attacks…"

"Now see here, Spitelout, if _Alvis_ can't stop them—" Fudge said, his upper lip sweating now, "I mean to say, who _can?_ "

"That remains to be seen," Spitelout said with a nasty smile. "But as all twelve of us have voted…"

Gobber leapt to his feet at once.

"An' how many did yeh to threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, Spitelout, eh?" he roared.

"I'd watch that temper of yours Gobber, it'll lead you into trouble one of these days," Spitelout said. "I would try and do that to the Azkaban guards like that. They won't like it at all."

"Yeh can' take Alvis!" Gobber yelled, making even Astrid shudder. "Take him away, and the Muggle-borns won' stand a chance! There'll be _killings_ next!"

"Calm yourself, Gobber," Alvis said sharply. He looked at Spitelout.

"If the governors want my removal, Spitelout, I shall of course step aside."

"But—" Fudge stuttered.

" _No!_ " Gobber growled.

Alvis had not taken his bright blue eyes off Spitelout’s icy cold blue ones.

"However," Alvis said, speaking very slowly and clearly, so that none of them could miss a word, "you will find that I will only _truly_ have left this academy when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Berk to those who ask for it."

For a second, Hiccup was almost sure Alvis’s eyes flickered towards the corner where he and Astrid stood hidden.

"Admirable sentiments," Spitelout said, sweeping into a mocking bow. "We shall all miss your—uh—highly individual way of running things, Alvis, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any—ah—' _killings_ '."

He strode to the doorway and bowed Alvis out. Fudge, fiddling with his longsword, waited for Gobber to go ahead of him, but Gobber stood his ground, took a deep breath and said carefully, "If anyone wanted teh find out some _stuff_ , all they'd have teh do would find metal sphere. That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm saying'."

Fudge stared at him in amazement.

"Alright, I'm coming," Gobber said. But as he was about to follow Fudge through the doorway, he stopped again and said loudly, "Oh, an' someone'll need teh feed Grump while I'm away."

The door banged shut at last, and Astrid pulled the Invisibility Cape off.

"We're in trouble now," she said hoarsely. "Gobber's right; without Alvis here, there’s be killings next."

Hiccup agreed with her, but he didn't know what to do. He then noticed that Grump had lost interest, and was asleep yet again.

* * *

**Yeah, let's remove Alvis from Berk. That'll make this situation better...**

**And Grump, now is not the time to fall asleep. Now is the time to panic.**

**Favorite line of chapter: "In the end, he and Astrid agreed to take the same new subjects, Forging and Soothsaying, so that if they were lousy at them, at least they’d have each other for support."**

**(Yes, because you two don't already spend every waking moment together as it is)**

**Well, that's it for now. Please remember to click kudos and leave a review—everyone who does gets a shout-out at the end!**

**Until next week, my friends!**


	15. Aragog

**"Hmm, I guess Fudge's parents were SO addicted to the candy, they just HAD to name their son after it..."—Gamer Spice on how Fudge the Mighty got his name.**

**Yep. That's canon now.**

**On to chapter fifteen!**

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen: Aragog_

* * *

Summer was creeping over the grounds around the mountain; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue, and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the farmhouses. But with no Gobber forging something at his house with Grump or teaching the third years and up Forging, the scene just didn't look right to Hiccup; no better, in fact, than the inside of mountain, where things were so horribly wrong.

Hiccup and Astrid had tried to visit Ragnar, but visitors were now barred from entering the Infirmary.

"We're taking no more chances," Bergljot told them severely through a crack in the Infirmary door. "No, I'm sorry, but there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off…"

With Alvis gone, fear had spread as never before, so that the sun warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned windows. There was barely a face to be seen in the academy that didn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural, and was quickly stifled.

During Core Magic, Hiccup noticed that Heather was looking at Ragnar's empty seat with a sad expression on her face. He, however, was too busy thinking about what Alvis had said to say anything to her. He kept repeating Alvis’s final words to himself. " _I will only_ **_truly_ ** _have left this academy when none here are loyal to me…Help will always be given at Berk to those who ask for it._ " But what good were these words? Who exactly were they supposed to ask for help, when everyone was just as confused and scared as they were?

Gobber's hint about his metal sphere was far easier to understand—the trouble was that there didn't seem to be a single chance for them to slip away. They were still not allowed to wander off on their own, but had to move around the fort in a pack with other Gryffindors. Most of their fellow students seemed glad that they were being shepherded from class to class by teachers, but Hiccup and Astrid found it incredibly irksome.

One person, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of terror and suspicion. Snotlout Jorgenson was strutting around the academy as though he had just been appointed Head Boy. Hiccup didn't realize _what_ he was so pleased about until the Potions lesson about a fortnight after Alvis and Gobber had left, when, sitting right behind Snotlout, Hiccup overheard him gloating to Hjartán and Falskur.

"I always thought Dad might be the one who got rid of Alvis," he said, not bothering to keep his voice down. "I told you he thinks Alvis’s the worst Headmaster the academy has ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent Headmaster now. Someone who won't _want_ the Chamber of Secrets closed. Phlegma won't last long; she's only filling in…"

Asketill swept past Hiccup, making no comment about Ragnar's empty seat and cauldron.

"Sir," Snotlout said loudly. "Sir, why don't _you_ apply for the Headmaster's job?"

"Now, now, Snotlout," Asketill chided, though he couldn't suppress a thin-lipped smile. "Alvis has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough."

"Yeah, right," Snotlout said, smirking. "I expect you'd have Dad's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job— _I'll_ tell Dad you're the best teacher here, sir…"

Asketill smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Wartihog, who was pretending to vomit into his cauldron.

"Honestly, I'm surprised that the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Snotlout went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. I’m just disappointed that it wasn't Wicket—"

The bell rang at that moment, which was lucky; at Snotlout’s last words, Astrid leapt off her stool, and in the scramble to collect bags and books, her attempts to reach Snotlout went unnoticed.

"Let me at him," Astrid growled, as Hiccup snatched her arms and held her back with all of his strength. "I'll get that son of a half troll; I'm going to kill him with my bare hands—"

"Hurry up, I've got to take you all to Herbology," Asketill barked over the class's heads, and off they marched, with Hiccup and Astrid bringing up the rear, Astrid still trying to get loose. It was only safe to let go of her when Asketill had seen them out of the mountain, and they were making their way to the farms.

The Herbology class was very subdued. There were now two missing from their number; Ragnar and Hardbottom.

Eydis set them all to work pruning the Abyssinian Shrivel figs. Hiccup went to tip an armful of withered stalks onto the compost heap and found himself face to face with Speedfist.

Speedfist took a deep breath and said, very formally, "I just want to say, Hiccup, I'm sorry I ever suspected you. I know you'd never attack Ragnar Wicket, and I apologize for all the stuff I said about you and your dad. We're all in the same boat now, and, well—"

He held out a pudgy hand, and Hiccup shook it.

"Must've hurt to say that," Hiccup said.

"More than you know," Speedfist admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Speedfist and his friend Eggingarde came to work at the same Shrivelfig as Hiccup and Astrid.

"That Snotlout Jorgenson character," Speedfist said, breaking off dead twigs, "he seems very pleased about all this, doesn't he? Do you know, I think _he_ might be Slytherin’s heir."

"Figured that out all by yourself, did you?" Astrid scoffed. She didn't seem to have forgiven Speedfist as readily as Hiccup.

"Do _you_ think it's Snotlout, Hiccup?" Speedfist asked.

"No," Hiccup said, so firmly that Speedfist and Eggingarde stared at him.

"He means that we already suspected him, and we found out the Chamber was opened before," Astrid said hotly.

"So? His father could have opened it when he was here," Speedfist said.

"Yeah, we thought so as well, but it was opened years before Spitelout the Stern ever set foot in this academy," Hiccup said.

Both Speedfist and Eggingarde looked at each other and said no more about the matter.

At the end of the lesson Eydis escorted the class to their Combat Arts lesson. Hiccup and Astrid lagged behind the others once more, this time so they could talk out of earshot.

"We'll have to use the Invisibility Cape again," Hiccup told Astrid. "We'll sneak into Gobber's house, find that metal sphere of his, and find the answers to our questions."

"Right," Astrid said, nodding in agreement. "But I think we should get our dragons, just in case we enter Raven's Point. You remember how well going in on our own went last time."

Hiccup shuddered. "Please don’t remind me."

He did indeed remember; last year he, Astrid, and Ragnar had helped Gobber chase after Snotlout in the forest behind the mountain. They had barely survived that encounter (Astrid still had a scar on her neck, though it was difficult to see with her necklace in the way), and Hiccup had hoped that he'd never have to enter the forest again.

"Right," he said as they took their usual place in the back of the arena, "brilliant thinking."

At that moment, Flashburn came bounding into the arena and the class stared at him. Every other teacher in the place was looking grimmer than ever, but Flashburn appeared nothing short of buoyant.

"Come now," he cried, beaming around him, "why all these long faces?"

People swapped exasperated looks, but nobody answered.

"Don't you people realize," Flashburn said, speaking slowly, as though they were all a bit dim, "the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away—"

"Says who?" Wartihog called loudly.

"My dear young man, the Chief wouldn't have taken Gobber if he hadn't been one hundred percent certain that he was guilty," Flashburn said, in the tone of someone explaining to a toddler that one and one made two.

"Oh yes, he would," Hiccup said, even more loudly than Wartihog.

"I flatter myself I know a _touch_ more about Gobber's arrest than you do, Hiccup," Flashburn said in a self-satisfied tone. "Once you get as famous as me, you'll understand."

Hiccup gritted his teeth. He started to say that he didn't think so, somehow, but stopped in mid-sentence when Astrid elbowed him in the ribs.

"We weren't there, _remember_?" she muttered.

But Flashburn’s disgusting cheeriness, his hints that he had always thought Gobber was no good, and his confidence that the whole business was now at an end, seemed to get under Astrid's skin as well; within ten minutes, it was clear that she too longed to chuck _Gadding with Ghouls_ at the man’s head. They contented themselves with writing messages back and forth:

_I don’t think I can take much more of this._

**_Me neither._ **

_Shall we sneak out tonight, then?_

**_No time like the present._ **

_Then let’s do it._

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days, because from six o'clock onwards, the Gryffindors had nowhere else to go. They also had plenty to talk about, with the result that the common room often didn't empty until past midnight.

Hiccup went to get the Invisibility Cape out of his trunk right after dinner, and spent the evening sitting on it, waiting for the room to clear. Double and Trouble challenged Hiccup and Astrid to a few games of Exploding Snap, and Egill sat watching them, very subdued in Ragnar's usual chair. Hiccup and Astrid kept losing on purpose, trying to finish the games quickly, but even so, it was well past midnight when Double, Trouble and Egill finally went to bed.

Hiccup and Astrid waited for distant sounds of two dormitory doors closing before seizing the cape, throwing it over themselves, and climbed through the portrait hole.

It was another difficult journey through the corridors, dodging all the teachers. After no less than five close-calls, they finally reached the outside, and once they shut the giant oak front doors they hurried down the steps to the village.

They had decided to get the metal sphere from Gobber's house first, because there was no way they could hide two dragons under the Cape.

Once they entered, they saw that Grump was fast asleep still in the same place they had left him. The rest of the workshop, however, looked as though a hurricane had just swept through. Plans for weapons and other machines laid everywhere, and unused scraps of metal littered the desk.

"Gods, this place is a mess," Astrid muttered. "We’ll never find that damn thing!"

However, after about ten minutes of searching, Hiccup found what they were looking for. It was metal sphere the size of a cricket ball with a red button on top of it.

"So now that we've found it, what do we do with it?" Astrid asked, looking at metal sphere quizzically.

"I'm guessing we press the button," Hiccup said, and he pressed the button.

Seconds later it opened up, and a hologram of a blue arrow appeared. Judging from the way it was pointing, Hiccup could tell that they had to head towards Raven's Point.

"Looks like we will need Toothless and Stormfly," Hiccup said.

"Then let's go and get them," Astrid said.

They got under the Invisibility Cape once more and made their way to the stables. When they entered they were met with Toothless and Stormfly, who rammed into them and lick the two of them like mad.

"Aw, you know that doesn't come off," Hiccup said, as he freed himself from Toothless.

_"I do, and that’s why I do it."_

"It's great seeing you too girl," Astrid said, giving Stormfly a hug. "Going to let me on this time?"

_"Yep!"_

"Good."

Hiccup then looked at Toothless and said, "Okay, bud, we need you and Stormfly to get us to Raven's Point."

Toothless nodded and lowered himself so Hiccup could get on his back. Stormfly did the same with Astrid. Once they were safely on their backs, they flew out of the stables and towards Raven's Point.

They decided they would have a better chance of spotting anything if they flew into the forest itself. As they flew through forest, the hologram of the arrow pointed left, so they followed it.

For half an hour they continued this way, silently following the arrow’s directions, listening hard for noise other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Hiccup had to create a fireball in his hand so see, because the forest was so dense it was difficult to tell where he was going.

Suddenly both Toothless and Stormfly stopped in mid air and roared at something in the distance.

"What, is it, bud?" Hiccup asked Toothless.

_"I-I don’t know."_

"There's something moving over there," Astrid said, pulling her axe out. "Listen…Sounds like something big…"

Hiccup listened. Some distance to their right, the something big snapped branched as it carved a path through the trees.

"Give us some light, bud," Hiccup said.

_"I’m on it."_

Toothless fired a plasma shot where the something big was coming, lighting the place up. Hiccup couldn't quite make it out, but Astrid stared at it in bewilderment.

"I don't believe it," she breathed. She looked back at him with a grin. "Hiccup! It's our car!"

Hiccup blinked. " _What?_ "

He looked more closely and realized that she was right. In the clearing ahead of them was indeed Mr Hofferson's car standing, empty, in the middle of a circle of thick trees under a roof of dense branches, its headlamps ablaze. As they got closer it moved slowly towards Astrid, exactly like a large, turquoise dog greeting its owner.

"It's been here all this time!" Astrid said delightedly, as she hopped off Stormfly and walked around the car. "Look at it. The forest's turned it wild…"

The wings of the car were scratched and smeared with mud. Apparently it had taken to trundling around the forest on its own. Both Toothless and Stormfly looked at the car with great interest—no doubt this was the first time they'd seen a car—but neither seemed keen on getting any closer.

"And we thought it was going to attack us!" Hiccup said.

Astrid leaned against the car, patting it, and said, "I’d wonder where it had gone!"

Hiccup looked at the hologram arrow and saw it was now pointing left. He also noticed that the arrow was slowly turning red; he guessed that meant they were getting close to whatever Gobber was hinting to them.

"We have to get going," Hiccup said.

Astrid nodded, but next thing they knew both Toothless and Stormfly collapsed to the ground with matching cries of _"Help!"_. They looked around, trying to work out what had happened.

They soon got their answer—surrounding them was a whole herd of Speed Stingers. They looked like theropod dinosaurs, but with sail-like appendages on their head, back and legs. They eyed them closely, no doubt wondering how tasty they would be. Speed Stingers may be dragons, but unlike the other dragons Hiccup had met they weren't ones to bond with humans, for some unknown reason.

That's when Hiccup saw it. He saw a much bigger Speed Stinger, but unlike the rest this one was completely made out of metal. That's when Hiccup realized that it was the same robotic dragon Hiccup saw in Sidduvb's dairy, only bigger and older.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the dragon spoke. This made Hiccup feel even more nervous; he had no idea the robot could talk. "It would seem as if some young human mates and their dragons have wandered into our territory." He looked at the other Speed Stinger and simply said, "Kill them."

"Wait, we're friends of Gobber!" Hiccup shouted. His heart seemed to have left his chest to pound in his throat. "I'm Hiccup, and this is my friend Astrid."

Astrid waved nervously and said, "Hi."

The Speed Stingers that were about to kill them stopped and looked at robot Speed Stinger.

"Gobber has never sent other people into our territory before…" he said slowly.

"Yeah, well that's a long story, but first mind telling us who you are?" Hiccup asked.

Robot Speed Stinger paused.

"I am Aragog, the pack leader of the Speed Stingers,"  it said at last. "Tell me, you wouldn’t be Hiccup Haddock, would you?"

"Yes," Hiccup said. "H-how did you—"

"Gobber has mentioned your father dozens of time, about how he stood up for Gobber when he got expelled from the academy."

"Yeah, well Gobber's in trouble," Hiccup said, breathing very fast. "That's why we've come."

"Gobber’s in trouble?" Aragog asked, concerned. "But why has he sent you?"

"They think, up at the academy, that Gobber's been setting a-a-something on students."

"They've taken him to Azkaban," Astrid added.

Aragog growled furiously, and all around the clearing the sound was echoed by the crowd of Speed Stinger roars; it was like applause, except applause didn't usually make Hiccup feel sick with fear.

"But that was years ago," Aragog said fretfully. "It was years and years ago. I remember it well. That's why they made him leave the academy. They believed that _I_ was the dragon that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Gobber had opened the Chamber and set me free."

"And you…you didn't come from the Chamber of Secrets?" Hiccup asked. He could feel cold sweat on his forehead.

"I!" Aragog said angrily. "Like I said before, Gobber built me. The dragon of which we speak of was born within the academy. Creatures like myself didn’t even _exist_ in the time of Slytherin the Cunning. However, Gobber had to hide me in cupboard, because he believed that they would think I was the dragon that attacked the students at the academy. Gobber is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. He lost his duel to the one that framed me and lost a tooth in the process. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Gobber still visits me. I had managed to gain respect to the Speed Stinger pack and became their leader."

Hiccup summoned what little remained of his courage.

"So you never—never attacked anyone?"

"Never," the old robot croaked. "Gobber had never put that instinct in my programming. The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom, another girl was found in the same corridor standing in front of a window. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which Gobber built me."

"But then…Do you know what _did_ kill that girl?" Hiccup asked. "Because whatever it is, it's back and attacking people again—"

His words were drowned by a loud outbreak of roars from the Speed Stingers around him. They were acting as if they were afraid.

"The thing that lives in the castle," Aragog said, "is an ancient dragon and it is the instinct of dragon to fear this dragon apart from the Whispering Death, whose instinct is to obey it."

Hiccup didn't want to press the subject, not with the Speed Stingers getting closer and closer on all sides. Aragog seemed to be tired of talking. He was backing slowly out of the clearing, but the flesh and blood Speed Stingers continued to inch slowly towards Hiccup and Astrid.

"Well, thank you. We'll just go, then," Hiccup called desperately to Aragog, hearing leaves rustling behind him.

"While I do not attack people," Aragog said slowly. "My followers do not share this with me. I order them not to harm Gobber, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. However, out of respect for your parents, they will not attack you." Both Hiccup and Astrid gave a sigh of relief. This, however did not last long, because Aragog added, "The girl and the dragons, on the other hand, I cannot deny. They want the girl most of all, she is quite… _strange_."

"Hey!"

Trembling with rage, Hiccup pulled out his sword and ignited it with flames.

"Hel will have my soul before I let you hurt her," he snarled. He took a protective stance in front of Astrid, more than willing to attack whichever dragon was foolish enough to approach him first.

"I respect you for standing with your mate," Aragog said as he walked away. "In that case, I bid you farewell, friends of Gobber."

Hiccup looked around. Feet away, all around him was a wall of Speed Stingers, tails raised, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent…They wanted Astrid, but he wouldn’t let them…

"Got any ideas?" Astrid asked, taking a fighting stance.

"Not dying, mostly. You?"

Before she could answer, Mr Hofferson's car burst to life, circling around them and knocking several Speed Stingers to the ground with its headlights blazing. It stopped in front of Hiccup and Astrid and opened its doors.

"Get Toothless and Stormfly on it!" Hiccup yelled.

"What are you going to do?" Astrid asked, as she ran to their paralyzed dragons.

"I'm going to buy you a little time," Hiccup said as he rushed towards the center of the clearing, lifting his sword high into the air as he ran.

He then pressed his sword into the ground and shot two streams of fire out of it. The two streams went in opposite directions and circled around them, creating a ring of fire. Hiccup turned and saw Astrid had somehow managed to get Toothless inside the car.

"I don't know what we're going to do with Stormfly," Astrid yelled, looking from Stormfly to the car. "There is no way we'll be able to get her into the car."

She was right; Stormfly was a slightly larger dragon than Toothless, meaning she wouldn't be able to fit through the door. Then the car beeped its horn and opened the boot. Inside it was a rope strong enough and large enough to hold Stormfly on the roof.

Hiccup turned around and saw the flames were getting weaker and some of the Speed Stringers managed to jump over the flames. He quickly used his Fire Magic to expand them, but the Speed Stingers were still charging towards them. They were indeed fast, and though letting them get closer to Astrid was far from ideal, Hiccup knew that she had more fighting experience than he did.

"I'll deal with Stormfly, you take on the Speed Stingers," Hiccup said as he rushed over to Stormfly. "Just…don’t let them get too close."

Astrid nodded, grabbed her axe and charged at the approaching Speed Stingers. Hiccup knew they didn’t have much time, so he used some Wind Magic to lift Stormfly onto the back of the car and began to tie her onto it.

"Gah!"

One of the Speed Stingers had nearly bitten off Astrid’s arm. She sent a shock of lightning its way, but it dodged with a cackle.

_"Strange girl strong!"_ it roared. _"But not stronger than me!"_

"Wanna bet?" Astrid growled. She ducked to the ground and repeated her last attack, this time hitting her target and sending it toppling to the ground.

At last, Hiccup managed to get Stormfly secured.

"I’m done, come on!" he yelled.

Astrid nodded and slammed the base of her axe at the Speed Stringer she was battling.

_"OW! THE STRANGE GIRL HIT ME!"_

"Oh shut it," Astrid said. She rushed over to Hiccup, who was already sitting in the front seat. The moment she leaped into the seat beside him, the doors slammed shut.

Hiccup didn't have time to touch the accelerator, but the car didn't need him to; the engine roared, and they were off, hitting more Speed Stingers. They jumped over the flames and sped up over a slope, out of the clearing, and they were soon crashing through the forest, branches whipping the windows as the car wound its way cleverly through the widest gaps, following a path it obviously knew quite well.

They smashed their way through the undergrowth; Hiccup saw the wing mirror snap off as they squeezed past a large oak. After ten noisy, rocky minutes, the trees thinned, and Hiccup could again see patches of sky.

The car stopped so suddenly that Hiccup and Astrid were nearly thrown into the windshield, and Stormfly was flung off the roof of the car. They had reached the edge of the forest. Hiccup got out and after a minute or so, both he and Astrid managed to get Toothless outside. Hiccup gave the car a grateful pat as it reversed back into the forest and disappeared from view.

It took about half an hour, but they somehow managed to get both Toothless and Stormfly into the stables without being caught. After Hiccup picked up the Invisibility Cape and got outside, Astrid began losing her temper.

"Get the sphere," Astrid said crossly. "I'll never forgive Gobber. We're lucky to be alive."

"I think he thought that Aragog wouldn't hurt friends of his," Hiccup said.  

"That's exactly Gobber's problem!" Astrid said, thumping the wall of the stables. "He doesn't think things through when these robots of his, and look where it's got him! He’s stuck in a cell in Azkaban!" She looked like she'd cheerfully strangle Gobber the next time she saw him. "What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I'd like to know?"

"That Gobber never opened the Chamber of Secrets," Hiccup said, throwing the cape over Astrid and prodding the small of her back to make her walk. "He was innocent."

"Yeah, and a fat lot of good that does us," Astrid said, as they walked towards the mountain. "We're at yet another dead end."

She was right; they had hit dead ends everywhere. Sidduvb had caught the wrong person, the heir of Slytherin had got off, and no one could tell whether it was the same person, or a different one, who had opened the Chamber this time around. There was nobody else to ask.

And yet…Astrid’s comment about a dead end lingered in his mind.

As they walked up the steps to the mountain Hiccup twitched the cape to make sure their feet were hidden, then pushed the creaking front doors ajar. They walked carefully across the Great Hall, entered the Entrance Hall and went up the marble staircase, holding their breath as they passed corridors where watchful sentries were walking. At last they reached the safety of the Gryffindor common room, where the fire had burned itself into glowing ash. They took off the cape, but before they climbed to their respective dormitories, Hiccup remembered what Astrid had said that they had reached a dead end.

And then it hit him.

"Astrid!" Hiccup said, grabbing her arm.

"What?" she yawned tiredly.

"That girl who died twenty years ago; Aragog said she was found in a bathroom, yes?" Hiccup asked. "What if she had never left the bathroom? _What if she's still there_?"

Astrid looked at Hiccup, her eyes widening in horror. Apparently she understood what he was on about, and she didn’t like it.

"Hiccup, you _don't_ think—oh gods, not _Myrtle the Moaning?_ "

* * *

**Yes indeed! Surprise!**

**Favorite line of chapter:**

**"The girl and the dragons, on the other hand, I cannot deny. They want the girl most of all, she is quite… _strange_."**

**"Hey!"**

**(Get offended later Astrid, they want to _eat you_ )**

**Well, that's all for today. Remember, if you have any ideas for this series, feel free to let me know. Credit is always given (as you may have seen above)**

**Until next week, my friends!**


	16. The Chamber of Secrets

**So I finally got around to publishing that story I wrote in school. Please go check it out (warning—updates will most likely be sporadic)**

* * *

_Chapter Sixteen: The Chamber of Secrets_

* * *

"All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," Astrid said bitterly at breakfast next day, "All that time we could've asked her, and now…"

It had been hard enough trying to sneak to Gobber's house. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into the bathroom, _the_ girls' bathroom, moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be next to impossible.

But something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration, which drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks. Ten minutes into the class, Phlegma informed them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.

 _"Exams?_ " Tuffnut howled. "We're still getting _exams?"_

"Can't we do something cooler, like, shooting sheep out of catapults or something?" Ruffnut asked, rather too eagerly.

There was a loud bang behind Hiccup as Fishlegs' hammer slipped out of his oversized hands, vanishing one of the legs on his desk. Phlegma restored it with a wave of her axe, and turned, frowning, to the Thorston twins.

"The whole point of keeping this academy open at this time is for you to receive your education. And you lot need all the education you can get." she said sternly. "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

 _Studying hard?!_ It had never occurred to Hiccup that there would still be exams with the academy in this state. There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Phlegma scowl even more darkly.

"Alvis’s instructions were to keep the academy running as normally as possible," she said. "And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year."

Hiccup looked down at the pair of white rabbits he was supposed to be turning into slippers. What had he learned so far this year? He couldn't seem to think of anything that would be useful in an exam.

* * *

Three days before their first exam, Phlegma made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Alvis’s coming back!" several people yelled joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" Heather squealed from the Ravenclaw table.

"Dragon Racing matches are back on!" Eret roared excitedly.

When the hubbub had finally subsided, Phlegma said, "Eydis the Hardworking has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or rather, _what_ , attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with us catching the culprit."

There was an explosion of cheering, Hiccup looked over at the Slytherin table and wasn't at all surprised to see that Snotlout hadn't joined in. Astrid, however, was looking happier than she'd been in months.

"It won't matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!" she said to Hiccup. "Ragnar will probably have all the answers when they wake him up! Heh, mind you, he'll go mad when he finds out we've got exams in three days' time. He hasn't studied at all. It might be kinder to just leave him where he is until they're over."

"I'm more concerned about the heir," Hiccup muttered.

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked.

"If anyone saw them, they’re about to get caught," Hiccup explained, "which means this is his or her last chance to get rid of the Muggle-borns."

Just then, Egill came over and sat next to Astrid. He looked tense and nervous, and Hiccup noticed that his hands were twisting in his lap.

"What’s up, Egill?" Astrid asked.

Egill didn't say anything. He glanced up and down the Gryffindor table with a scared look on his face that reminded Hiccup of someone, though he couldn't think of who.

"Well spit it out," Astrid said, watching him.

Hiccup suddenly realized who Egill looked like. He was rocking backwards and forwards slightly in his chair, exactly like Dobby did when he was teetering on the edge of revealing forbidden information.

"I've got to tell you something," Egill mumbled, very careful to not look at Hiccup.

"What is it?" Hiccup asked.

Egill looked as though he couldn't find the right words.

" _What?_ " Astrid said.

Egill opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Hiccup leaned forward and spoke quietly, so that only Egill and Astrid could hear him.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Is someone acting oddly?"

Egill drew in a deep, shuddering breath—and at that precise moment, Askeladden Hofferson appeared, looking tired and wan.

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Egill. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty."

Egill jumped up as though his chair had just been electrified, gave Askeladden a fleeting, frightened look, and scarpered away. Askeladden sat down and grabbed a mug of coffee from the center of the table.

"Askeladden, what are you doing?!" Astrid asked angrily. "He was just about to tell us something important!"

Halfway through a gulp of coffee, Askeladden choked.

"What sort of thing?" he asked, coughing.

"Hiccup just asked him if he'd seen anything odd, and he started to say—"

"Oh—that—that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," Askeladden said at once.

"How do you know?" Astrid asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, uh, if you must know, Egill, uh, walked in on me the other day when I was—well, never mind—the point is, he spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked him not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think he'd keep his word. It's nothing, really, I'd just rather—"

Hiccup had never seen Askeladden look so uncomfortable.

"What in the name of _Thor_ were you doing, Askeladden?" Astrid asked, grinning savagely. "Go on, tell us, we won't laugh."

(A lie if Hiccup had ever heard one)

Askeladden didn't smile back.

"Pass me those rolls, will you, Hiccup? I'm starving."

* * *

Hiccup knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without their help, but he wasn't about to pass up a chance to speak with Myrtle if it turned up—and to his delight, it did, mid-morning, when they were being led to History of Magic by Flashburn.

Flashburn, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong straightaway, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; it seemed that he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around a corner, "the first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be ' _it was Gobber_.' Frankly, I'm astounded Phlegma thinks all these security measures are still necessary."

"I agree, sir," Hiccup said, causing Astrid to stare at him as though he’d grown a second head.

"Thank you, Hiccup," Flashburn said graciously, as they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without all this walking students to classes and standing guard all night…"

"That's right," Astrid said, very quickly catching on. She flashed Flashburn a bright smile, batted her eyelashes and added, "Why don't you leave us here, sir, we've only got one more corridor to go…"

"You know, Miss Hofferson, I think I will," Flashburn said. "I really should go and prepare my next class—"

And he hurried off.

"Prepare his next class," Astrid sneered after him. "Gone to brush his hair, more like."

They let the rest of the Gryffindors draw ahead of them, then darted down a side passage and hurried off towards Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom. But just as they were congratulating each other on their brilliant scheme…

"Hiccup, Astrid! What are you doing?"

It was Phlegma, and her mouth was the thinnest on thin lines.

"We were—we were—" Astrid stammered, "We were going to—to go and see—"

"Ragnar," Hiccup said. Astrid and Phlegma both looked at him.

"We haven't seen him for ages, ma'am," Hiccup went on hurriedly, treading on Astrid's foot so that she didn’t interrupt him, "and we thought we'd sneak into the Infirmary, you know, and tell him the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, uh, not to worry."

Phlegma was still staring at him, and for a moment, Hiccup thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice.

"Of course," she said, and Hiccup, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eyes. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been…have been…I quite understand. Stoick and I were the same with Valka; we hardly left her side. Yes, Hiccup, of course you and Astrid may visit Ragnar. I will inform Brudar where you've gone. Tell Bergljot I have given you my permission."

Hiccup and Astrid walked away, hardly daring to believe that they'd avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Phlegma blow her nose.

"That," Astrid said, looking quite impressed, "was the best story you've ever come up with. Well done."

They had no choice now but to go to the Infirmary and tell Bergljot that they had Phlegma permission to visit Ragnar.

Bergljot let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no _point_ in talking to a Petrified person," she said, and they had to admit she was right when they'd taken their seats next to Ragnar. It was plain that Ragnar didn't have the faintest inkling that he had visitors, and they might just as well tell his bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

"Wonder if he did see the attacker, though?" Astrid mused, looking sadly at Ragnar's rigid face. "Because if they sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know…"

But Hiccup wasn't looking at Ragnar's face. He was more interested in his right hand. It lay clenched on top of his blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside his fist.

Making sure that Bergljot was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Astrid.

"Try and get it out," Astrid whispered, shifting her chair so that she blocked Hiccup from Bergljot's view.

It was no easy task. Ragnar's hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Hiccup was sure he was going to tear it. While Astrid kept watch he tugged and twisted, until at last, after several tense minutes, the paper came free.

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Hiccup smoothed it eagerly and Astrid leant close to read it too.

_Of the many fearsome beasts and dragons that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Screaming Death, a sub-species to the Whispering Death. This boulder class, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, hatches once every hundred years from a Whispering Death's egg that is hatched in cold dark caves. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Screaming Death has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eyes shall suffer instant death. Its roar is powerful enough to disorient any dragon, apart from Whispering Death, which follows it out of pure instinct._

And beneath this, a short sentence had been written, in a hand Hiccup recognized as Ragnar's. _It’s in the pipes_.

It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain.

"Astrid," he breathed, "This is it. This is the answer. The dragon in the Chamber's a Screaming Death—a subspecies to a Whispering Death! _That's_ why we've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because we understand Serpent tongue…"

"Hang on, Hiccup," Astrid said, looking confused as she gestured to the beds around them. "If this dragon can kill people with just one stare of its eyes, then how come no one has died yet?"

Hiccup thought for a moment and looked at the hand mirror that was found next to Ragnar and Ravenclaw prefect. When he saw his reflection in it, another light lit in his brain.

"Because no one looked directly into its eye," Hiccup said.

"What are you saying?" Astrid asked, now even more confused.

Hiccup looked at the beds around them.

"Gustav saw it through his camera. The Screaming Death burnt up all the film inside it, but Gustav just got petrified. Hardbottom…Hardbottom must've seen the Screaming Death through Nearly Headless Njorthr! Njorthr got the full blast of it, but he's a ghost, so he can't really die _again_ …and Ragnar and the Ravenclaw prefect were found with that mirror next to them. Ragnar had just realized the dragon was a Screaming Death. I bet you anything he warned the first person he'd met to look round the corner with the mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror—and—well, you know the rest. And I think my mum saw its reflection in a window when she was attacked."

Astrid looked stunned; she did not, however, seem convinced.

"And Fungus?" she whispered. "I'm pretty sure _he_ didn’t have a camera or a mirror, Hiccup."

Hiccup thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween.

"The water…" he said slowly, "The flood from Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom. I bet you Fungus only saw the reflection, just like my mum…"

He scanned the page in his hand eagerly. The more he looked at it, the more and more it made sense.

 _"Its roar is powerful enough to disorient any dragon, apart from Whispering Death, which follows it out of pure instinct!_ " he read aloud. "Gobber told me the dragons had been acting weird latterly like they were trying to get away from something! And Aragog mentioned that Whispering Deaths follow it. It all fits!"

"But how's the Screaming Death been getting around the place?" Astrid asked. "Someone would have noticed a huge dragon going by."

"Ragnar's answered that for us," Hiccup said, pointing at the note Ragnar had scribbled at the foot of the page. "It’s in the pipes."

"That explains how come we've been hearing that voice from inside the walls," Astrid said, looking up.

"We’ve also heard it from underground," Hiccup reminded her. "But this doesn't get us any closer of finding the Chamber."

Astrid suddenly grabbed Hiccup's arm.

"Wait, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" she said, eyes widened in understanding. "What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in—?"

"— _Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom,_ " Hiccup finished.

They sat there, excitement coursing through them, hardly daring to believe it.

"To think it's been under our noses the whole time," Astrid said.

"Yeah, and it means," Hiccup said, "I can't be the only Serpent Tongue in the academy. The Heir of Slytherin's one too. _That's_ how they've been controlling the Screaming Death."

"We need to tell Phlegma," Astrid said.

"Let's go to the staff house," Hiccup said, jumping up. "She'll be there in ten minutes, it's nearly break."

They ran outside and towards the second largest house in the village. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around outside, like they were in the corridor, they went straight into the deserted staff house. It was a large, paneled two stores room full of dark wooden chairs. Hiccup and Astrid paced around it, too excited to sit down.

But the bell to signal break never came.

Instead, echoing through the whole island was Phlegma's voice, magically magnified.

" _All students are to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff house. Immediately, please."_

Hiccup wheeled around to stare at Astrid.

"Great," he said. "Another attack. That’s just perfect."

"What do we do now, Hiccup?" Astrid asked, looking aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," Hiccup said, glancing around for a place to hide. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' capes. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

They hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving outside, and the staff house door banging open. From between the musty folds of the capes, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Phlegma arrived.

"It has happened," she told the silent staff house. "A student has been taken by the dragon; right into the Chamber itself."

Alvar let out a squeal. Eydis clapped her hands over her mouth. Curiously, Asketill gripped the back of a chair very hard and hissed, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," Phlegma said, her face very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. _His skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever._ "

Alvar burst into tears.

"Who is it?" Madam Flyheart asked. She had sunk into a chair, weak-kneed. "Which student was taken?"

"Egill Hofferson," Phlegma said.

Astrid’s hand flew to her mouth, forcefully muffling her gasp. Hiccup could feel her slide down to the wardrobe floor beside him, trembling all the while.

"We’ll have to send all the students home tomorrow," Phlegma said. "This is the end of Berk. Alvis always said…"

The staff house door banged open again. For a wild moment, Hiccup was sure it would be Alvis, back to save them. But it was Flashburn, and he was beaming.

"So sorry—dozed off—what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Asketill stepped forward.

"Just the Viking," he said with malice. "The very Viking we’re looking for. A boy has been snatched by the monstrous dragon, Flashburn. He was taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

"M-my m-moment?" Flashburn stuttered.

"That's right, Flashburn," Eydis chipped in. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I—well—I—" Flashburn spluttered.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" Alvar piped up.

"D-did I? I don't recall…"

"I, for one, _certainly_ remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the dragon before Gobber was arrested," Asketill said. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first attack?"

Flashburn stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I…I really never…You may have misunderstood…"

"We'll leave it to you then, Flashburn," Phlegma said. "Your feats are legendary. Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the dragon all by yourself. A free rein at last, just like you wanted."

Flashburn gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome any more. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usual toothy grin he looked weak-chinned and weedy.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll—I'll be in my house, getting—getting ready."

And he hurried out of the room.

"Right," Phlegma said, her nostrils flaring, "that's got _him_ out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Berk Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?"

The teachers nodded, rose, and left one by one.

* * *

It was, without question, the worst day of Hiccup's entire life. He, Astrid, Double and Trouble sat together in a corner of Gryffindor common room, unable to say anything to each other. Askeladden wasn't there. He had gone to send a Terrible Terror to Mr and Mrs. Hofferson, then shut himself up in his dormitory without speaking to them.

No afternoon had ever lasted as long as that one, nor had Gryffindor common room ever been so crowded, yet so quiet. Near sunset, Double and Trouble went up to bed, unable to sit there any longer.

"He knew something, Hiccup," Astrid croaked, speaking for the first time since they had entered the wardrobe in the staff house. "That's why he was taken. It wasn't some stupid thing about Askeladden at all. He'd found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be way he was—" Astrid rubbed at her eyes frantically—"I mean, he was a pure-blood. There can't be any other reason. If only Askeladden hadn't scared him off..."

Hiccup could see the sun sinking, blood-red, below the skyline. This was the worst he had ever felt. He could only imagine how Astrid felt. He looked back at her and realized that tears were streaming down her face, faster than she could wipe them away.

"Hiccup," she said shakily, rubbing her fists against her rapidly reddening eyes, "Do you think there's any chance at all he's not—you know—"

Hiccup didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t see how Egill could still be alive, but saying that would not make Astrid feel any better. He did the only thing he could think of, and cautiously placed his arm around her.

What happened next caught him off guard; Astrid buried her head into his chest and began to cry in earnest. For a moment he froze. Then, by instinct, he returned her embrace, gently wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"I don't know," he said softly into her ear, "but I think we should go and see Flashburn. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a Screaming Death in there."

Astrid looked up at him and nodded, sniffling. The Gryffindors around them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Hoffersons, that nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room, and left through the portrait hole.

Darkness was falling as they walked down the steps that led to Flashburn's house. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps and hurried footsteps.

Hiccup knocked, and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack, and they saw one of Flashburn’s eyes peering through it.

"Oh…Mr Haddock…Miss Hofferson…" he said, opening the door a bit wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment. If you could be quick…"

"Sir, we've got some information for you," Hiccup said. "We think it'll help you."

"Uh—well—it's not terribly—" The side of Flashburn’s face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean—well—oh, all right—"

He opened the door, and they entered.

Hiccup knew from his detention with him that Flashburn’s house was usually covered with photographs of himself. Now, however, his house had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Capes of jade-green, lilac, midnight blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"Are you going somewhere?" Hiccup asked.

"Uh, well, yes," Flashburn said, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back door as he spoke, and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call…unavoidable…got to go…"

"What about my little brother?" Astrid demanded, looking angrier than Hiccup had ever seen her.

"Well, as to that—most unfortunate," Flashburn said, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I—"

"You're the Combat Arts teacher!" Hiccup said. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well, I must say…When I took the job…" Flashburn muttered, now piling socks on top of his capes, "nothing in the job description…didn't expect…"

"You mean you're _running away?_ " Astrid asked disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books?"

"Books can be misleading," Flashburn said delicately.

"You wrote them!" she shouted.

"My dear," Flashburn said, straightening up and frowning at her. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think _I'd_ done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian Viking, even if he _did_ save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the Valkyrie who banished the Bandon Dark-elf had a hare lip! I mean, come on…"

"So you've just been taking credit for what loads of other people have done?" Hiccup asked incredulously.

"Hiccup, Hiccup," Flashburn said, shaking his head impatiently, "I wish it was as simple as that. There was quite a bit of hard work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them _exactly_ how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to use some powerful Lightning Magic to rearrange their memories. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it’s rearranging memories with Lightning Magic. It's not an easy feat; only a few people able to use Lightning Magic can pull it off without nasty side effects. No, it's been a lot of work for me, Hiccup. It's not all book-signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame and fortune? You have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his axe and turned to them.

"Nothing personal, but I'll have to rearrange your memories too. I can't have you two blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book—OH SWEET THOR!"

Faster than Hiccup could blink, Astrid pulled out her axe and charged. She disarmed Flashburn with ease, knocking him to the ground, throwing his axe out the window, and pointing her own axe at his throat. Hiccup couldn't help but feel the smallest pang of pity for Flashburn; Astrid was giving him the worst death glare Hiccup had ever seen, and considering both of their track records, that was saying something.

"You bastard!" she yelled. "You foul, attention-seeking _bastard!"_

"Astrid," Hiccup said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know that you’re upset, but now's not the time. We need to rescue Egill."

"Right," Astrid agreed. "Should we take Toothless and Stormfly with us?"

Hiccup shook his head. "Don't you remember _its_ roar is able to disorient dragons? Bringing them would only put them at risk."

Astrid nodded in agreement. "Then let's get going." she glared at Flashburn and added, "And _you're_ coming with us."

"What do you want me to do?" Flashburn asked. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"Well, it's your lucky day," Hiccup said brightly, as Astrid forced Flashburn to his feet, still pointing her axe at him. "We think _we_ know where it is. _And_ what's inside it. Let's go."

They marched Flashburn out of his house, into the fort and up the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the message shone on the wall, to the door of Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom.

They sent Flashburn in first. Hiccup was pleased to see that he was shaking. Though truth be told, if _he_ had been at the receiving end of Astrid's axe, he'd probably be trembling too.

Myrtle the Moaning was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh. It's you," she said when she saw Hiccup. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," Hiccup said.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very cubicle. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Holly Horndotter was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet and then—" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I _died_."

"How?" Hiccup asked.

"No idea," Myrtle said in a hushed tone. "I just remember seeing a pair of great big red eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" She looked at Hiccup dreamily. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Holly Horndotter, you see. Oh, she'd been so sorry she ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" Hiccup asked.

"Somewhere over there," Myrtle said, pointing vaguely towards the sink in front of her toilet.

Hiccup and Astrid hurried over to it. Flashburn was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his pale face.

It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Hiccup saw it: scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny Hideous Zippleback.

"That tap's never worked," Myrtle said brightly, as he tried to turn it.

"Hiccup," Astrid said, "Say something. Something in Serpent tongue."

"But—" Hiccup thought hard. The only times he'd ever managed to speak Dragon tongue were when he'd been faced with a real snake. He stared hard at the tiny engraving, trying to imagine it was a real living snake.

"Open up," he said.

He looked at Astrid, who shook her head.

"English," she said.

Hiccup looked back at the Hideous Zippleback, willing himself to believe it was living snake. If he moved his head, the torchlight made it look as though it's necks were moving.

 _"Open up,"_ he said.

Except that the words weren't what he heard; a strange growling had escape him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move. The sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Hiccup heard Astrid gasp and looked up again. He had made up his mind what he was going to do.

"I'm going down there," he said.

He couldn't not go, not now. They had found the entrance to the Chamber; he couldn’t leave it, not if there was even the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that Egill might still be alive.

"Me too," Astrid said softly, reaching out to take his hand in hers.

There was a short pause.

"Nice work you two," Flashburn said, with a shadow of his old smile. "Well, you hardly seem to need me. I'll just—"

He put his hand on the doorknob, but Astrid and Hiccup both pointed their weapons at him, their hands still intertwined.

"You can go first," Astrid snarled.

White-faced and weaponless, Flashburn approached the opening.

"My dear," he said, his voice feeble. "My dear, what good will it do?"

"Better you than us," Astrid said.

Hiccup pressed the tip of his sword into his back. Flashburn slid his legs into the pipe.

"I really don't think—" he started to say, but Astrid kicked him, and with a squeak the man slid out of sight. Reluctantly releasing Astrid’s hand, Hiccup quickly followed suit. He lowered himself slowly into the pipe, then let go.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see more pipers branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downwards, and he knew that he was falling deeper below the academy than even the dungeons. Behind him he could hear Astrid yelling, thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as he had begun to worry about what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe levelled out, and he shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel, large enough to stand in. Flashburn was already getting to his feet a little way away, covered in slime and white as a ghost. Hiccup stood aside as Astrid came whizzing out of the pipe, too.

"It's really quite filthy down here," Flashburn said, as he brushed the slime off of his clothes.

"Somehow I don't think the Screaming Death cleans up after itself," Hiccup said as he helped Astrid to her feet.

"We must be miles under the academy," Astrid said, her voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," Hiccup said, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls and creating a fireball in his hand. "Let's get going," he said to Astrid and Flashburn, and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the firelight.

"Remember," Hiccup said quietly, as they walked cautiously forward, "any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away…"

But the tunnel was quiet as a grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud _crunch_ as Astrid stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. Hiccup lowered the fireball to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Egill might look like if they found him, Hiccup led the way forward, round a dark bend in the tunnel.

"Hiccup, look over there…" Astrid said, pointing.

Hiccup looked at where she was pointing to and saw large white dragon scales littering the floor ahead of them.

"It must have shed its scales," Hiccup said, looking at the nearest one.

"Odin's beard," Flashburn said, looking terrified, "the dragon that shed these must be almost fifteen feet big."

"Bigger," Hiccup said, looking up at the ceiling.

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked.

Hiccup raised the fireball into the air, and Astrid realized what he meant. The tunnel they were in couldn’t have been made by any human; it was clearly made by a dragon. There were teeth marks on the walls and ceiling, and there were several smaller side tunnels.

"The Screaming Death has been building this tunnel all over the place," Hiccup said.

"By Thor," Astrid said breathlessly.

There was a sudden movement behind them. Flashburn’s knees had given out.

"Heart of a lion, this one," Astrid muttered. She kicked him. "Get up, you coward."

Flashburn got to his feet—then dived at Astrid, knocking her to the ground.

Hiccup jumped forward, but too late. Flashburn was straightening up, panting, Astrid's axe in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face.

"Oldest trick in the book," Astrid said, cursing herself.

"I'm afraid the adventure ends here!" he exclaimed. "I shall take one of the dragon scales back up to the academy, tell them I was too late to save the boy, and you two _tragically_ lost your minds at the sight of his mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories!"

He raised Astrid's axe with her crystal eye imbedded into it high over his head and aimed at Hiccup, letting out a roar.

The shock of lightning exploded with the force of a small bomb. On instinct, Hiccup flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the huge dragon scales, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling which were thundering to the floor. Next moment, he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock.

"Astrid!" he shouted, consumed by panic. "Are you okay?! ASTRID!"

"I'm here!" Astrid's muffled voice came from behind the rock fall.

"Oh, thank Thor," Hiccup said, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Then came Flashburn’s voice, "Oh, hello. Who are you?"

"Uh, Astrid Hofferson," Astrid said, her tone confused.

"Really," Flashburn said. "That’s a lovely name. And who am I?"

"Flashburn’s attack backfired!" Astrid yelled. "He has no idea who he is!"

"So I heard," Hiccup called.

"It's an odd sort of place, isn’t it," Flashburn said. "Do you and that voice live here?"

"No," Astrid said.

"Oh, really—"

Then there was a dull thud and a loud "ow!" Hiccup had a sudden suspicion that Astrid had hit Flashburn with the side of her axe.

"What now?" Astrid asked, sounding desperate. "I can't get through—It'll take ages…"

Hiccup looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge cracks had appeared in it. He had never tried to break apart anything as large as these rocks by magic, and now didn't seem like a good moment to try—what if the whole tunnel caved in?

He thought that some of the side tunnels might connect with each other, but that would take too long; even from here he could tell that they were in a maze. They were wasting time. Egill had already been in the Chamber of Secrets for hours. Hiccup knew there was only one thing to do.

"You wait here and try to shift some of this rock," Hiccup said.

"I’m on it," Astrid said, and after a very heavy pause she added, "And Hiccup…be careful."

"When have I never been careful?" Hiccup asked. He had the feeling that Astrid was about to answer. "Don't answer that."

And he set off alone past the giant dragon scales.

Soon the distant noise of Astrid straining to shift the rocks was gone. The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Hiccup's body was tingling unpleasantly. He wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what he'd find when it did. And then, at last, as he crept around yet another bend, he saw a solid wall ahead on which had a Hideous Zippleback with its neck entwined around each other carved, its eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

Hiccup approached, his throat very dry. There was no need to pretend this stone Hideous Zippleback was real snake; its eyes seemed to flicker.

 _"Open_ ," Hiccup said, in a low, faint growl.

The Hideous Zippleback's necks parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Hiccup, shaking from head to foot, walked inside.

* * *

**Into the chamber we go!**

**Favorite line of chapter: "Prepare his next class," Astrid sneered after him. "Gone to brush his hair, more like."**

**(I'd say that that was a bit unfair, but she was right)**

**Well folks, there're only two chapters left. Any and all suggestions for Book Two must be in by July 16th, as that will be the very latest I can fit them in. On that note, suggestions for Book Three: The Prisoners of Azkaban are now being accepted. Remember, credit is always given.**

**Tune in next week for an epic battle, and the reveal of the mysterious Heir of Slytherin (who I'm sure you already knew going into this, but whatever)**


	17. The Heir of Slytherin

**We have reached three hundred hits! And this brings the entire series as a whole up to...(drumroll please!) ONE THOUSAND AND FIFTY-THREE HITS!**

***party noise maker sounds in the distance***

**Enjoy today's chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen: The Heir of Slytherin_

* * *

He was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more Hideous Zipplebacks carvings that rose to support the ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

His heart beating so fast it threatened to bust out of his chest, Hiccup stood listening to the chill silence. Could the Screaming Death be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Egill?

He pulled out his sword and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone Hideous Zipplebacks seemed to be following him. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, he thought he saw one stir.

Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue as high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.

Hiccup had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above. He recognized it at once; it was the face of Slytherin the Cunning. It looked almost exactly like the statue of Slytherin in the Great Hall, only far grander. Then Hiccup noticed, in-between its feet, face down on the ground, lay a small figure with golden blond hair.

" _Egill!_ " Hiccup gasped, sprinting to him and dropping to his knees. "Egill, get up! Don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" He flung his sword aside, grabbed Egill’s shoulders, and turned him over. His face was white as marble, and almost as cold, yet his eyes were closed, so he wasn't Petrified. But then he must be…

"Egill, please, get up," Hiccup pleaded desperately, shaking the boy as hard as he could. Egill’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"He won't wake," a deep voice said.

Hiccup jumped and spun around on his knees.

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching calmly. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Hiccup was looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him.

"Sven— _Sven Sidduvb?_ "

Sidduvb nodded, not taking his eyes off Hiccup's face.

"What do you mean, he won't wake?" Hiccup asked desperately. "He's not—he's not—?"

"He's still alive," Sidduvb said. "But only just."

Hiccup stared at him. Sven Sidduvb had been at Berk over twenty years ago, yet here he stood, with a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than seventeen.

"Are you a ghost?" Hiccup asked uncertainly.

"A memory," Sidduvb said quietly. "A memory preserved in a diary for over twenty years."

He pointed towards the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Hiccup and Ragnar had found in Myrtle the Moaning's bathroom. For a second, Hiccup wondered how it had got there—but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

"You've got to help me, Sven," Hiccup said, raising Egill’s head again. "We've got to get him out of here. There's a Screaming Death… I don't know where it is, but it could be here at any moment. Please, help me…"

Sidduvb didn't move. Hiccup, sweating, managed to hoist Egill’s upper half off the floor, and bent to pick up his sword again.

But his sword had gone.

"Did you see—?"

He looked up. Sidduvb was still watching him—twirling Hiccup's sword in his right hand.

"The eye of a Night Fury," he said, twirling the sword idly and examining the crystal eye imbedded it. "That's quite rare."

"Listen," Hiccup said urgently, his knees sagging with Egill’s dead weight, "Forget what kind of crystal eye I've got, _we've got to go!_ If the Screaming Death comes…"

"It won't come," Sidduvb said calmly. "Not yet."

Hiccup lowered Egill back onto the floor, unable to hold him up any longer.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Look, give me back my sword, I might need it."

Sidduvb's smiled broadened.

"Oh, don’t worry; you won't need it," he said.

Hiccup stared at him.

"What the Helheim are you—?"

"I've waited a long time for this, Hiccup Haddock," Sidduvb said, still smiling broadly, even as he pointed Hiccup’s sword at him. "I’ve waited patiently for the chance to see you, to speak to you. I won’t wait any longer."

Hiccup wasn't sure what he meant by that, but every bone in his body told him to run away. This wasn't the Sidduvb he had seen in the dairy months ago.

"How did Egill get like this?" he asked slowly.

"Well, that's an interesting question," Sidduvb said pleasantly. "And it’s quite a long story. I suppose the _real_ reason Egill Hofferson is like this is because he opened his heart and spilled all his secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" Hiccup asked, though he had a pretty good idea what he was on about.

"Oh, I think you know," Sidduvb said. "He had my diary. Little Egill’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all his pitiful worries and woes—how his older siblings _tease_ him, how he had to come to the academy with second-hand clothes, weapons and books, how—" Sidduvb's eyes glinted violently "—how his hero, the famous, good, _great_ Hiccup Haddock could even _look_ at him and his family, much less be so close to his sister…"

All the time he spoke, Sidduvb's eyes never left Hiccup's face. There was an almost hungry look in them.

"It was very _boring_ , having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old boy," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back, I was sympathetic, I was kind. Egill simply _adored_ me. _No one's ever understood me like you, Sven…I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in…It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…_ "

Sidduvb laughed; a deep, booming sound that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Hiccup's neck. He could have sworn that he'd heard that laugh somewhere before, but Sidduvb’s voice was drowning out his thoughts.

"If I say it myself, Hiccup, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Egill poured out his soul to me, and his soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of his deepest fears, his darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Mr Hofferson. Powerful enough to start feeding Mr Hofferson a few of _my_ secrets, to start pouring a little of _my_ soul back into _him_ …"

"What do you mean?" Hiccup asked. His mouth had gone dry.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Hiccup Haddock?" Sidduvb asked with a laugh. "You’re supposed to be smart, can’t you figure it out? Egill Hofferson opened the Chamber of Secrets. He daubed threatening messages on the walls. He set the Dragon of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's sheep."

"No," Hiccup whispered. "Egill wouldn’t…"

"But he did," Sidduvb said calmly. "Of course, he didn't _know_ what he was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen his new diary entries…They became _far_ more interesting… _Dear Sven_ ," he recited, watching Hiccup's horrified face with sick delight, " _I think I'm losing my memory. I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a sheep was attacked and I've got red paint all down my front. Dear Sven, Askeladden keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me…There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Sven, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad…I think_ **_I'm_ ** _the one attacking everyone, Sven!_ "

Hiccup’s fists were clenched, his nails digging deep into his palms.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Egill to stop trusting his beloved diary," Sidduvb said. "But he finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where _you_ came in, Hiccup. You and the stupid boy’s sister found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was _you_ , the very person I was most anxious to meet…"

"And why did you want to meet me?" Hiccup snarled. He rarely got angry, but Sidduvb was succeeding greatly, and it was hard for him to keep his voice steady. Every time Sidduvb opened his mouth, he kept on getting the feeling that he had met him somewhere before, but it was like putting together a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle.

"Well, you see, Egill told me all about you, Hiccup," Sidduvb said. "He told me all about your _fascinating_ history." His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Hiccup's forehead, and his expression grew hungrier. It was then that Hiccup realized that he had been looking at his scar the entire time. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, and meet you if I could. And not because I knew your grandfather and both your parents…So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Gobber, to gain your trust. But your _dear_ Astrid didn’t trust me, did she? Thought I was no good? Clearly _she_ butted in, because I didn’t hear from you again."

"Gobber's my friend," Hiccup said, his voice now shaking. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but—"

Sidduvb laughed his deep, booming laugh again.

"It was my word against Gobber's, Hiccup. Well, you can imagine how it looked to your grandfather. On the one hand, Sven Sidduvb, poor but brilliant, parentless but oh so _brave_ , academy prefect, model student; on the other hand, big, blundering Gobber, in trouble every other week with his friends, trying to build dangerous robots, getting into fights with just about everyone. But I must admit, even _I_ was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought _someone_ must realize that Gobber couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken _me_ six whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance…as though Gobber had the brains, or the power!

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Alvis, seemed to think Gobber was innocent, other than his own friends. He and your father persuaded your grandfather to keep Gobber and train him to teach Forging. Yes, I think Alvis might have guessed…Alvis never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…"

"I bet Alvis saw right through you," Hiccup said, his teeth gritted.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Gobber was expelled. As did your father and his friends and once she recovered your mother too watched me. She was so close to discovering me, and I had hoped the attack on her would finish her off, the filthy Mudblood," Sidduvb said carelessly. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at the academy. But I wasn't going to waste all those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my seventeen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Slytherin the Cunning's noble work."

"There is nothing noble about this Pureblood nonsense," Hiccup said, glaring at Sidduvb. "Anyways, you've failed. No one's died this time, not even the sheep. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready, and everyone who was Petrified will be alright again—"

"Haven't I already told you," Sidduvb said, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my target has been— _you_."

Hiccup stared at him.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was _Egill_ who was writing to me, not you. He saw you with the diary, you see, and he panicked. What if you found out how to work it? What if I told you what he’d done? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Egill had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery, just like your mother—particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Egill had told me the whole academy was buzzing because you had accidentally outed yourself as a Serpent Tongue…

"So I made Egill write his own little farewell on the wall and come down here to wait for you. He struggled and cried and became _very_ boring. But there isn't much life in him: he put too much into the diary, into me. There was enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Hiccup Haddock."

"Like what?" Hiccup spat, fists still clenched. "What could I possibly know?"

"Well," Sidduvb said, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that a _baby_ , with no extraordinary magical talent to speak of, managed to defeat the greatest Viking of all time? How did _you_ escape with nothing but a scar, while Drago Bludvist's powers were destroyed?"

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" Hiccup asked slowly, and then he realized something that made his blood turn to ice. "No…no, you can't be—"

"So you’ve finally realized," Sidduvb said, an evil grin on his face, "that Drago Bludvist is my past, present and future, Hiccup Haddock…"

He held Hiccup's sword into the air and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

SVEN GRIM SIDDUVB

Then he waved the sword once, and the letters of his name melted away to show:

I AM DRAGO BLUDVIST

He smirked at the words. "It was a name I was already using at Berk, to my most intimate friends only, so course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, whose veins are filled with the blood of Slytherin the Cunning himself through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me before I was even born, just because he found out his wife was a "freak"? No, Hiccup. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew Vikings and Valkyries everywhere would one day fear to speak, one that would make even the most dangerous dragons tremble, when I had become the greatest Viking in the world!"

Hiccup looked at Sidduvb, speechless; here in front of him was an orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Hiccup's parents, and so many others…At last he forced himself to speak.

"You're not," he said, his quiet voice full of hatred.

"Not what?" Sidduvb snapped.

"Not the greatest Viking in the world," Hiccup said, his breath coming faster. "Sorry to disappoint you, and all that, but the greatest Viking in the world is Alvis the Noble. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over Berk. Alvis saw through you when you were at the academy, and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days. Not much of a surprise—I mean, how can you possibly call yourself the greatest Viking of all time, when you couldn’t even kill a helpless baby?"

He’d touched a nerve there. The smile had gone from Sidduvb's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.

"Alvis’s been driven out of this island by the mere _memory_ of me!" he hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Hiccup retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Sidduvb, wishing, rather than believing it to be true—

Sidduvb opened his mouth, but froze.

Several roars were coming from somewhere, all calling Hiccup’s name. Sidduvb whirled around to stare down the empty chamber. The roars were growing louder. He saw three very familiar dragons; Toothless, Stormfly, and leading the way, a banged up helmet clutched in his talons, Fawkes.

Hiccup couldn't believe it. He didn't know how or why, but it was as clear as day. The three dragons circled around them and then landed next to him. Fawkes dropped the banged up helmet at his feet and rested on his shoulder.

Toothless and Stormfly walked up to him and nuzzled his side. All three of them gazed steadily at Sidduvb.

"So…" Sidduvb said, slightly taken aback, "Egill was telling the truth. You _do_ ride on a Night Fury…and it would seem as if he brought friends…"

" _Toothless, Stormfly, Fawkes…_ " Hiccup breathed, as he felt the Burning Blaze's golden claws gently squeeze his shoulder. "What are you guys doing here?"

 _"You really thought we’d let you face this on your own?"_ Toothless asked.

 _"No offense, lad, but we know you far too well to think that that’s a good idea,"_ Stormfly added.

"And _that_ —" Sidduvb said, now eyeing the battered up helmet that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the Sorting Helmet of Valhallarama."

So it was. Cracked, dented, and dirty, the helmet lay motionless at Hiccup's feet.

Sidduvb began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Sidduvb’s were laughing at once.

"This is what Alvis sends his valiant defender! Three useless reptiles and his foolish ancestor’s old helmet! Do you feel brave, Hiccup Haddock? Do you feel safe now?"

Hiccup didn't answer. He might not see what use Toothless and the other would be against a Screaming Death, or what the Sorting Helmet was for, but he was no longer alone, and he waited with mounting courage for Sidduvb to stop laughing.

"To business, Hiccup," Sidduvb said, still smiling broadly. "Twice—in _your_ past, in _my_ future—we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. _How did you survive?_ Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added, "the longer you stay alive.

Toothless growled at Sidduvb, but Hiccup ordered him back. True he had three dragons, but Sidduvb had his sword, and more knowledge on how to use it. Besides, he could call the Screaming Death whenever he wanted and that made the three dragons beside him useless. The only weapon Hiccup had was a banged up helmet, and that wasn’t exactly what he would call a "useful weapon". It looked bad, alright. But the longer Sidduvb stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Egill…and in the meantime, Hiccup noticed suddenly, Sidduvb's outline was becoming clearer, more solid. If it had to be a fight between him and Sidduvb, better sooner than later.

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," Hiccup said abruptly. "I don't know myself, and I doubt I ever will. But I know why you couldn't _kill_ me. Because my mother died to save me. My common, _Muggle-born_ mother," he added, shaking with suppressed rage. "She stopped you killing me. And I've seen the real you, I saw you last year. You're a wreck. You’re barely even alive. That's where all you've done has got you. You're hiding. You're ugly, you're foul!"

Sidduvb's face contorted. Then he forced it into an awful smile.

"So, your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful bit of Light Magic. I can see now—there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There is a strange likeness between us, Hiccup Haddock. Even you must have noticed. Both of us are half-blooded orphans that were raised by horrid Muggles. Probably the only two Serpent Tongues to come to Berk since the great Slytherin the Cunning and foolish Valhallarama the Dependable themselves. We both come from two direct descendants of powerful Vikings, and are both the last of our clans. We even _look_ something alike…But after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's all I wanted to know."

Hiccup stood, tense, waiting for Sidduvb to raise his sword. But Sidduvb's twisted smile was widening again.

"Now, Hiccup, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Drago Bludvist, Heir of Slytherin the Cunning, against famous Hiccup Haddock, descendant of the first dragon rider, armed with the best weapons Alvis the Noble can give him…"

He cast an amused eye over the three dragons, who were growling angrily at him and the Sorting Helmet, then walked away. Hiccup, fear spreading up his numb legs, watched Sidduvb stop between the high pillars and look up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Sidduvb opened his mouth wide and growled—but Hiccup understood what he was saying.

" _Speak to me, Slytherin the Cunning, learner of Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror and greatest of the Berk Four_."

Hiccup wheeled around to look up at the statue. Fawkes swayed on his shoulder, and both Toothless and Stormfly took up fighting stances.

Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, Hiccup saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.

Then a very loud roar came out of it, so loud that it hurt Hiccup's ears. He then saw that Toothless and the others were acting crazy. It looked as though they were in even worse pain than Hiccup.

"So, that's the Screaming Death's roar," Hiccup grunted.

And then something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something was flying up from its depths.

Hiccup backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and as he shut his eyes tightly he felt Fawkes' wing sweep his cheek as he took flight. He couldn't blame him—if he had wings he’d be flying away too.

Something huge hit the stone floor of the chamber. Hiccup felt it shudder. He knew what was happening—he could sense it, could almost see a giant serpent-like body flying out of Slytherin's mouth. Then he heard Sidduvb's voice:

_"Kill him."_

The Screaming Death was flying towards Hiccup; he could hear its heavy body hovering over the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, Hiccup began to run blindly sideways, his hands out stretched, feeling his way—Sidduvb was laughing, as though this was the funniest thing he had ever seen—

Hiccup tripped. He fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood—The Screaming Death was barely feet from him, he could hear it coming—

There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him and then something heavy hit Hiccup so hard that he was smashed against the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through his body he heard more angered roaring, something thrashing widely off the pillars—

He couldn't help it—He opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on.

The Screaming Death was indeed huge, about twenty feet high, and it looked well over thirty foot long. Its scales were white as bone, and it had huge piercing white spikes with blood red tips all over its body. It raised its body high in the air, holding the biggest head Hiccup had ever seen, full to the brim with razor sharp teeth; its head was hovering drunkenly between the pillars. As Hiccup trembled, ready to close his eyes again if it turned, he saw what had distracted the dragon.

Fawkes was soaring around its head, and both Toothless and Stormfly were hitting it with plasma blasts and spine shots. The Screaming Death tried to roar, but the constant attacks from Toothless and Stormfly made it rather difficult.

Fawkes dived. His long talons sank out of sight, and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The Screaming Death's tail thrashed, narrowly missing Hiccup, and before Hiccup could shut his eyes, it turned. Hiccup looked straight into its face, and saw that its eyes, both its great bulbous red eyes, had been punctured by the Burning Blaze; blood was streaming to the floor, and the Screaming Death was roaring in agony—and once again the other dragon became disorientated, unable to move in a straight line.

"No!" Hiccup heard Sidduvb screaming, "Your dragons might have worked together to blind it, but it can still smell you!"

The blinded dragon swayed, confused but still deadly. Stormfly kept on firing spine shots at it, but Toothless had reached his shot limit and could only run to Hiccup, carrying the Sorting Helmet in his mouth.

Toothless stopped in front of Hiccup and placed the Sorting Helmet at his feet, covering it in his saliva. Hiccup looked at the helmet and back to Toothless and said, "Oh, what do I have to lose."

He placed the Sorting Helmet over his head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the Screaming Death's tail flew over him.

" _Help me…help me…_ " Hiccup thought, his eyes screwed tight under the helmet, " _Please, help me!_ "

There was no answering voice. Instead, the helmet contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly.

Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Hiccup's head. It almost knocked him out. Stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabbed the top of the hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard beneath it.

A gleaming, intricate silver sword had appeared inside the helmet, its handle glittering with a bright red crystal eye the size of an egg.

_"Kill the boy! Forget those blasted lizards! The boy is behind you! Sniff—smell him!"_

Hiccup was on his feet, ready. The Screaming Death's head was falling, smashing through a pillar as it moved to face him. It then launched several spikes from its body straight towards him. Without thinking, Hiccup raised the sword and created a firewall in front of him, so powerful all of the incoming spikes turned to ash.

"H-how did you get that sword?!" a stunned Sidduvb demanded.

He didn't give him time to answer, because he sent a jet of water out of Hiccup's sword straight at him. Hiccup sent a stream of fire with the sword in his hand, but the water extinguished it and slammed him straight into the Chamber wall. Then the Screaming Death made a blind lunge at him.

Hiccup didn't have any time to get out of the way, and he couldn't think of any spell to stop it. So he did the only thing he could—he raised the sword in both his hands and ignited it. When the Screaming Death's mouth was fully open, Hiccup threw his whole weight behind the ignited sword, and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the dragon's mouth.

But as warm blood drenched Hiccup's arm, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm, and it splintered as the Screaming Death crashed to the ground with a massive _thud_.

Trembling, Hiccup gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm. But he knew it was too late. White hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as he dropped the fang and watched his own blood soak his clothes, his vision went foggy. The chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull colors, and his legs lost feeling—

He collapsed, but a something big and black caught him.

"Thanks bud," Hiccup said thickly as Stormfly and Fawkes flew over to him. "You were amazing. You all were…"

Toothless laid him down on the floor and moved his head to the spot where the dragon's fang had pierced him. _"Hiccup…"_

He could hear echoing footsteps, and then a dark shadow moved in front of him.

"You're dead, Hiccup Haddock," Sidduvb's voice said above him. "Better yet, you’re _dying_. You might have killed the Screaming Death, which I’ll admit is impressive, but you will still die. Even your dragon knows it. Do you see what's he's doing, Haddock? He's licking your wound."

Hiccup blinked drowsily, trying to concentrate on Toothless's head as it slid in and out of focus. Sure enough, he felt a tongue brushing against his arm, and very vaguely he heard Stormfly crooning words of comfort.

"So ends the Famous Hiccup Haddock, and the Haddock clan with him," Sidduvb’s distant voice cut through hers. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by those he thought were his friends, his dear Astrid far behind with no way to aid or comfort him, defeated at last by the Dragon Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Hiccup…She bought you twelve years of borrowed time…but Drago Bludvist got you in the end, as you must have known he would."

 _"If this is dying,"_ Hiccup found himself thinking, _"it's not so bad…"_

But _was_ this dying? Instead of fading away, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. Hiccup gave his head a little shake, and there was Toothless, still licking Hiccup's injured arm.

The saliva was shining all around the wound—except that there _was_ no wound.

"Get away, lizard," Sidduvb's voice said suddenly. "Get away from him—I said, _get away_!"

Hiccup raised his head. Sidduvb was pointing Hiccup's sword at Toothless, but Stormfly and Fawkes blocked his water whip attack.

"Night Fury saliva…" Sidduvb said quietly, staring at Hiccup's freshly healed arm. "Of course…healing powers… _I forgot about the healing powers_ …"

He looked into Hiccup's face and sneered. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Hiccup Haddock…"

He raised the sword.

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes soared back overhead, and something fell into Hiccup's lap— _the diary_.

For a split second, both Hiccup and Sidduvb, sword still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without even _considering_ , as though he had meant to do it all along, Hiccup seized the Screaming Death fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Hiccup's hands and flooding the floor. Sidduvb was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then—

He had gone.

Hiccup's sword fell to the floor with a clatter, and there was silence. Silence except for the steady _drip drip_ of ink still oozing from the diary. The Screaming Death fang had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

Shaking all over, Hiccup pulled himself up. His head was spinning as though he'd just travelled miles by Floo powder. Slowly, he gathered together his sword, and placed it in its sheath, and the Sorting Helmet, and, with a huge tug, retrieved the glittering sword from the roof of the Screaming Death's mouth.

_"Come on, lad, get up; your sister won’t be pleased if I don’t bring you back…"_

He turned around and saw Stormfly nuzzling Egill, who had begun to stir. As Hiccup hurried towards him, the boy sat up. His bemused eyes travelled from the huge form of the dead Screaming Death, over Hiccup, in blood-soaked clothes, and then landed on the diary clutched in his hand. He drew a great, shuddering gasp, and tears began to pour down his face.

"Hiccup—oh, Hiccup—I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c- _couldn't_ say it in front of Askeladden. It was _me_ , Hiccup—but I—I s-swear I d-didn't mean to—S- Sidduvb made me, he t-took me over—and— _how_ did you kill that—that thing a-and what is S-Stormfly doing here? W-where's Sidduvb? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary—"

"Whoa, whoa, easy champ," Hiccup said, holding up the diary, and showing Egill the fang hole, "Sidduvb's finished. Look! Him _and_ the Screaming Death are dead and gone. Come on, let's get out of here—"

"I'm going to be expelled!" Egill wailed, as Hiccup awkwardly helped him to his feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Berk ever since H-Hakon came and n-now I'll have to leave and— _w-what'll Mama and Papa say?_ "

Hiccup somehow managed to get him on Stormfly's back. He climbed on Toothless' and they walked towards the Chamber's entrance where Fawkes was waiting. They passed the motionless body of the dead Screaming Death, through the echoing gloom and back into the tunnel. Hiccup heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft snarl.

After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, the distant sound of Astrid cursing as she shifted rock reached Hiccup's ears. After all he had just been through, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"Astrid!" he yelled, as Toothless and Stormfly sped up. "Egill’s okay! I've got him!"

He heard Astrid give a strangled cheer (nevermind, _that_ was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard) and they turned the next bend to see her eager face staring through the sizeable gap she had managed to make in the rock fall.

" _Egill!_ " Astrid thrust an arm through the gap in the rock and pulled him through it. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?"

She tried to hug him, but Egill held her off, sobbing noisily.

"But you're okay, Egill," Astrid said, beaming at him. "It's over now, it's—how did our dragons get here and what is that dragon?"

Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Egill.

"He's Alvis’s Burning Blaze," Hiccup said. "And how Toothless and Stormfly got here, I have no idea."

"They must've flown into the side tunnel," Astrid said, looking at the side tunnels all over the wall, "but how did they not get lost?"

As if on cue, Toothless and Stormfly flew into the nearest side tunnel with Hiccup still on Toothless back. Toothless was leading with Stormfly close behind; he was roaring and somehow managed to navigate through the maze of tunnels.

How Toothless did it, Hiccup couldn’t say, but he knew that it would be impossible to him. There were hundreds of side tunnels, and they all were going in different directions.

"How are you able to see any of this, bud?!" Hiccup yelled.

 _"Guess I’m just better than you!"_  The dragon warbled back.

 _"Unlikely!"_ Stormfly called.

_"Oh, shut up."_

They soon exited a tunnel that ended ten feet away from where Astrid and Egill were waiting. Astrid gaped at them.

"H-how did you—"

"No idea," Hiccup said, breathless. He looked down at Toothless and chuckled a bit. "You sure are full of surprises tonight, aren't you bud?"

_"Why yes, thank you for noticing."_

Astrid then noticed the silvery sword in Hiccup's hand. She stared at it as though it was a priceless treasure. "Uh…where did you get another sword?"

"It's a long story," Hiccup said. "And I promise I’ll tell it once we get out of here. Speaking of which, where's Flashburn?"

"Back there," Astrid said, grinning and jerking her head up the tunnel towards the pipe. "He's still trying to figure out who he is."

Led by Fawkes, whose scarlet scales seemed to emit a soft golden glow in the darkness, they walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Flashburn was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.

"I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself," Astrid said.

Flashburn peered good-naturedly up at them all.

"Oh, hello there, are you the one who lives here?" he asked.

"No," Hiccup said, before turning to look at Astrid, who was giggling into her hands. "We'll have to fly out on Toothless and Stormfly—there’s no other way to get out."

"It’s a good thing they decided to show up," Astrid agreed, reaching out to scratch under Stormfly’s chin.

"You have no idea how right you are. Right then, you take Egill on Stormfly, and I'll take Flashburn here on Toothless," Hiccup said.

"He means you, Stupid," Astrid barked to Flashburn, who was looking around for another person.

Astrid climbed onto Stormfly and pulled a crying Egill up behind her. Hiccup had to very slowly guide Flashburn to Toothless before hopping on. Once they were all secured, the two dragons flew upwards through the pipe with Fawkes close behind. Hiccup could hear Flashburn behind him saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!"  ("Shut up!" Astrid hollered in reply) The chill air was whipping through Hiccup's hair, and soon the four of them had exited the pipe, and their dragons landed on the wet floor of Myrtle the Moaning's floor, and as Flashburn straightened his helmet, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.

Myrtle goggled at them.

"You're alive," she said blankly to Hiccup.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed," he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his fur coat.

"Oh, well… I'd just been thinking. If you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," Myrtle said, blushing silver.

"Sounds like _someone's_ got another secret admirer," Astrid snorted, failing to hold back her laughter.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling at her. "Thank you for the observation, Milady. I never would’ve been able to figure that out on my own."

Fawkes then flew out of a hole in the wall, one that Hiccup was pretty sure hadn’t been there before.

"Uh…how did that get there?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Oh, that dragon you’re on just blasted a hole in the wall and was followed by the other two dragons," Myrtle explained.

" _Great_ , like we're not in enough trouble," Astrid moaned.

Nevertheless, Toothless and Stormfly followed Fawkes’ lead, and they flew into the village. They landed in front of Phlegma's house.

Hiccup, unable to think of anything else to do, pushed the door open.

* * *

**What else _would_ you do? Stare at the door handle until it does a trick?**

**... _Can_ it do tricks?**

**Favorite line of chapter: "After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, the distant sound of Astrid cursing as she shifted rock reached Hiccup's ears. After all he had just been through, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard."**

**(I can't say I blame him for that)**

**Only one left! Remember, any and all suggestions for Book Two must be in by July 16th, but suggestions for Book Three are now being accepted! Also, anyone who**

***leaves a comment**

***clicks kudos**

***bookmarks this book/the entire series**

**gets a shout-out at the end! (There will also be a general thank you to the subscribers, because I don't know who they are)**

**The end is near...I can hardly wait.**


	18. Dobby's Reward

**Please note—All previous instances of the phrase "Dragon Tongue" have been changed to "Serpent Tongue". There is a reason for this, as you'll see in a bit.**

**Here we go.**

* * *

****_Chapter Eighteen: Dobby's Reward_

* * *

For a moment, there was silence as Hiccup, Astrid, Egill and Flashburn stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Hiccup's case) blood. Then there was a scream.

" _ MY BABY! _ "

It was Mrs. Hofferson, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr Hofferson, and both of them flung themselves on their youngest son.

Hiccup, however, was looking past them. Alvis was standing by the mantel piece, beaming. Next to him was Phlegma, who was taking great, steadying gasps and  clutching her chest. Toothless, Stormfly and Fawkes entered the room and made themselves at home. Toothless sat close to the fireplace, Stormfly joined the Hoffersons, and Fawkes settled on Alvis’s shoulder, just as Hiccup found himself and Astrid being swept into Mrs. Hofferson's tight embrace.

"You saved him! You saved him!  _ How _ in the name of  _ Thor  _ did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," Phlegma said weakly.

Mrs. Hofferson let go of Hiccup, who hesitated for moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Helmet of Valhallarama, the silvery sword, and what little remained of Sidduvb's diary.

Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: he told them about hearing the disembodied voice (He had almost mentioned the fact that Astrid could hear it too, but she had caught his eye and shaken her head. He didn’t know why she wanted to hide it, but he wouldn’t tell if she didn’t want him to), how Ragnar had finally realized that he was hearing a Screaming Death in the pipes; how he and Astrid had followed Gobber's hologram tracker into Raven's Point, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the Screaming Death had died; how he had guessed that Myrtle the Moaning had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…

"That explains the destroyed stable doors," Phlegma prompted him, as he paused to catch his breath. "So you found out where the entrance was—breaking a hundred academy rules into pieces along the way, I might add—but how on  _ Midgard  _ did you all get out of there alive, Hiccup?"

So Hiccup, his voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about their dragons timely arrival and about the Sorting Helmet of Valhallarama giving him the silvery sword. But then he faltered. He had so far avoided mentioning Sidduvb's diary—or Egill.

Egill was standing with his head against Mrs. Hofferson's shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down his cheeks.  _ What if they expelled him? _ Hiccup thought in panic. Sidduvb's diary didn't work anymore…How could they prove it had been  _ he  _ who'd made him do it all?

Instinctively, Hiccup looked at Alvis, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off of his axe prosthetic.

"What interests  _ me _ most," Alvis said gently, "is how Drago Bludvist managed to enchant Egill, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

Relief—warm, sweeping, glorious relief—swept over Hiccup.

"W-what's that?" Mrs. Hofferson said in a stunned voice. " _ The Dragon Lord  _ en-enchant  _ Egill _ ? But Egill’s not a…Egill hasn't been…has he?"

"It was this diary," Hiccup said quickly, picking it up and showing it to Alvis. "Sidduvb wrote in it when he was seventeen, and he apparently found a way to preserve a piece of himself in it."

"I knew it!" Astrid said, clearly recognizing the diary. "I  _ knew _ something was up with that thing!"

Alvis took the diary from Hiccup and peered keenly down his fat nose at its burnt and soggy pages.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably one of the most brilliant students Berk has ever seen." He turned around to Mr and Mrs. Hofferson, who were looking utterly bewildered.

"Very few people remember that Drago Bludvist was once called Sven Sidduvb, or Sven the Exceptional. I taught him myself, twenty years ago, at Berk. Phlegma was at Berk when he was his fourth year, along with Gobber and Hiccup's parents. He disappeared a few months after leaving the academy…travelled far and wide…sank so deep into the use of Dark Magic, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Drago Bludvist a few years later, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Drago Bludvist with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But Egill," Mrs. Hofferson said, "What's our Egill got to do with—with— _ him? _ "

"His d-diary!" Egill sobbed, "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year—"

" _ Egill! _ " Mr Hofferson exclaimed, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you  _ anything _ ? What have I told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself  _ if you can't see where it keeps its brain _ . Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? Suspicious objects like that are  _ clearly _ full of Dark Magic—"

"I d-didn't know!" Egill wailed. "I found it inside one of the books Mama got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it…"

"Mr Hofferson should go to the Infirmary straight away." Alvis interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for him. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser Vikings than him have been hoodwinked by Drago Bludvist." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest, and perhaps a large steaming mug of hot chocolate; I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at him. "You will find that Bergljot the Helpful is still awake. She's just giving out the fresh Mandrake juice—I daresay the Screaming Death victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Ragnar's okay," Hiccup said brightly.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Egill," Alvis assured.

Mrs. Hofferson led Egill out, and Mr Hofferson followed, still looking deeply shaken.

"You know Phlegma," Alvis said thoughtfully to Phlegma, "I think these young heroes of ours deserve a  _ feast _ in their name. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," Phlegma said crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with Hiccup and Astrid, while I take their dragons back to the stable, shall I?"

"Certainly," Alvis said.

She left with the reluctant dragons close behind her, and Hiccup and Astrid gazed uncertainly at Alvis. What exactly had Phlegma meant,  _ deal _ with them? Surely— _ surely— _ they weren't about to be punished?

"I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more academy rules," Alvis said.

Astrid opened her mouth to protest.

"Which I hope has taught you that sometimes, even those in power must eat their words," Alvis went on with a smile, "You will both receive Special Awards for Services to the Academy and—let me see—yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor will do."

Astrid went as bright pink as one of Flashburn’s Freyja flowers. Her mouth shut with an audible click.

"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Alvis added. "Flashburn, you’re being rather modest all of a sudden; whatever is the matter?"

Hiccup gave a start. He had completely forgotten about Flashburn. He turned and saw that Flashburn was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Alvis addressed him, Flashburn looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.

"Sir," Astrid said quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Our Combat Arts teacher here—"

"Am I a teacher?" Flashburn asked in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

Hiccup and Astrid traded exasperated looks.

"You can say that again," Astrid muttered and looked back at Alvis. "Anyway, after we discovered that he was a fraud, he tried to rearrange our memories. But when he tried to use my crystal eye on Hiccup, his attack backfired."

"Odin's beard," Alvis said, shaking his head, his long silver moustache quivering. "Impaled upon his own sword!"

"Sword?" Flashburn repeated dimly. "I haven't got a sword. That boy has two, though." He pointed at Hiccup. "He'll lend you one."

"Would you mind taking Flashburn up to the Infirmary as well, Miss Hofferson?" Alvis said to Astrid. "I'd like a few more words with Hiccup…"

"Of course, sir," Astrid said. She then looked at Hiccup and punched him hard on his upper arm.

"That's for nearly getting yourself killed," she said.

With difficulty, Hiccup suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He was getting very tired of Astrid hitting him every time he nearly got himself killed. "You willingly followed me down there, Milady, you don’t get to talk."

Astrid smirked, then pulled him forward and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And  _ that's  _ for rescuing my little brother."

Before Hiccup could say anything in response (as if he  _ could _ ), Astrid left the room with a whistling Flashburn in tow, but not before glancing back at him, her face looking pleased but slightly pink as she closed the door.

Hiccup looked at Alvis, who had an amused, oddly wistful look on his face. "Ah, to be young and in love," he said as he sat down on one of the chairs by the fire.

Hiccup felt his face turning bright red and quickly began to stutter. "We're not—I mean,  _ I'm _ not—"

"Don’t even bother teh deny it, lad," a feminine voice, coated thickly with a Scottish accent, said. Hiccup turned to see that Valhallarama the Dependable was staring right at him with a mischievous grin. "Honestly, I thought Stoick and Valka were bad, but the two o’ yeh are givin’ them a run fer their money. They were bold, but not kissin’ in front o’ the Headmaster bold. I am very proud."

Alvis chuckled. "Sit down, Hiccup."

Hiccup sat, feeling unaccountably nervous.

"First of all, Hiccup, I want to thank you," Alvis said, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to help to you."

He stroked the Burning Blaze, who floated down onto his knee. Hiccup grinned awkwardly as Alvis and Valhallarama watched him.

"And so you met Sven Sidduvb," Alvis said thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of Valhallarama cringing. "I imagine he was  _ most _ interested in you…"

Suddenly, something that had been nagging at Hiccup tumbled out past his lips.

"Sir…Sidduvb said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said…"

_ "Did _ he, now?" Alvis asked, looking thoughtfully under his thick silver eyebrows at Hiccup. "And what do you think of that assessment, Hiccup?"

"I don't think I'm like him!" Hiccup said, more loudly than he'd intended. "I mean I'm—I'm in  _ Gryffindor, _ I'm…"

But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind.

"Sir," he started again after a moment, "The Sorting Helmet told me I'd—I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while… because I can speak Serpent Tongue…"

"You can speak Serpent Tongue, Hiccup," Alvis said calmly, "Because Drago Bludvist—who is the last remaining ancestor of Slytherin the Cunning, I assure you—can speak Serpent Tongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure…"

"Drago Bludvist put a bit of himself in  _ me _ ?" Hiccup said, thunderstruck.

"It would certainly explain why Mr Wicket has trouble reading your aura."

"So I  _ should _ be in Slytherin," Hiccup said, looking desperately into Alvis’s face. "The Sorting Helmet could see Slytherin's power in me, and it—"

"Put you in Gryffindor," Alvis said calmly. "Listen to me, Hiccup. You happen to have many qualities Slytherin the Cunning prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Serpent Tongue…resourcefulness…determination…a certain disregard for the rules. They were also the qualities he admired most about Valhallarama the Dependable, the woman he’d once intended to marry."

Valhallarama made a face. "Oi, careful; yeh’ll make me sick with talk like that."

"Sir, how am I able to hear other dragons, when Sidduvb didn’t seem to be able to?" Hiccup asked, still confused.

Valhallarama answered him. "Now that’s one _ I _ can answer. Yer not a Serpent Tongue—Yer a  _ Dragon  _ Tongue. The ability teh speak with all dragons is a part of  _ our  _ clan, lad, one that’s been slowly dying out over the centuries. Yer great grandmother Magna was the last one who could understand the language; her father Old Wrinkly was the last one who could speak it. The ability was a dormant trait inside of yeh, one that D-Drago accidentally brought to the surface…he made yeh  _ stronger _ by mistake."

She lowered her voice and added, in Serpent—no, no,  _ Dragon  _ Tongue,  _ "I’d give yeh an answer about Astrid if I could. I’ve never seen a Dragon Tongue who wasn’t born into the Haddock clan…" _

"The Sorting Helmet placed you in Gryffindor," Alvis said, snapping Hiccup’s attention away from his ancestor. "You know why that was. Think."

"It only put me in Gryffindor," Hiccup said in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin…"

" _ Exactly _ ," Alvis said, beaming once more. "This makes you very different from Frithjof Sidduvb. It is our choices, Hiccup that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Hiccup sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Hiccup, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at  _ this _ ."

Alvis reached across Phlegma's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword and handed it to Hiccup. Duly, Hiccup turned it over, the bright red crystal eye blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the words engraved just below the hilt.

_ To My Valiant Viking, Gryffindor the Courageous—VKH _

Valhallarama sucked in a breath. " _ Conatus… _ "

"This is Gryffindor's sword  _ Conatus _ , which is Latin for Endeavor. It was given to him by Valhallarama—that’s her signature right there, Valhallarama Kari Haddock. Imbedded in its center is the crystal eye belonging to the Red Death that was slain by Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror, which he also gave to his other students," Alvis said. "Now only a  _ true _ Gryffindor could have pulled that sword out of the helmet, Hiccup."

For a minute, none of them spoke; Valhallarama was wiping at her eyes with the back of her left sleeve. Then Alvis pulled open one of the drawers in Phlegma's desk, and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.

"What you need, Hiccup, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban—we need our Forge Master back. And I must draft an advertisement for the  _ Daily Prophet _ too," he added thoughtfully. "We'll need a new Combat Arts teacher yet again. Goodness, we  _ do _ seem to run through them quite quickly, don't we, Val?"

Valhallarama nodded. "Does meh previous suggestion still stand?"

"If he’s willing, yes," Alvis told her with a chuckle.

"Good. These children  _ need _ a decent Combat Arts teacher fer once."

Laughing, Hiccup got up and crossed to the door. He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Spitelout the Stern stood there, fury written on his face. And cowering under his arm, heavily wrapped in bandages, was  _ Dobby _ .

"Good evening, Spitelout," Alvis said pleasantly.

Spitelout almost knocked Hiccup over as he swept into the room. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cape, a look of abject terror on his face.

"So!" Spitelout said, his cold eyes fixed on Alvis, "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Berk."

"Well, you see, Spitelout," Alvis said, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of Terrible Terrors, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Bjartr the Tinkering's youngest son had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too…Several of them seemed to be under the impression that you had threatened to attack their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Valhallarama whistled. "Ooh, busted."

Spitelout went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.

"So—have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," Alvis said with a smile.

" _ Well _ ?" Spitelout demanded sharply, "Who was it?"

"The same person as last time, Spitelout," Alvis said. "But this time, Drago Bludvist was acting through somebody else. And it was done by the means of this diary."

He held up the small black book with large hole through the center, watching Spitelout closely. Hiccup, however, was watching Dobby.

The house-elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Hiccup, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Spitelout, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist. 

"I see…" Spitelout said slowly to Alvis.

"A clever plan," Alvis said in a level voice, still staring Spitelout straight in the eye. "Because if Hiccup here—" Spitelout shot Hiccup a swift, sharp look, "and his friend Astrid hadn't discovered this book, why—poor Egill Hofferson might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove he hadn't acted of his own free will…"

Spitelout said nothing. His face was suddenly mask-like.

"And imagine," Alvis went on, "what might have happened then…The Hofferson clan is one of our most prominent pureblood families. Imagine the effect on Bjartr and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own son was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Sidduvb's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise…"

Spitelout forced himself to speak.

"Well, let's hope that Hiccup Haddock will always be there to save the day," Spitelout said, looking straight at Hiccup.

"Oh, don't worry," Hiccup said, looking straight back at him, "I plan to be."

Hiccup noticed that, behind Spitelout's back, Dobby was still pointing, first to the diary, then to Spitelout, then punching himself in the head.

And suddenly Hiccup understood. He nodded at Dobby, and the house-elf backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

"Don't you want to know how Egill got hold of that diary, Mr Jorgenson?" Hiccup asked.

"How should I know how the stupid little boy got hold of it?" Spitelout demanded.

"I don't know…maybe because  _ you're  _ the one that gave it to him?" Hiccup said. Spitelout stared at him with ill-disguised shock. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up his old Transfiguration book, and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?"

He saw Spitelout's face turn red and his hands clench and unclench.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able teh do that," Valhallarama said, smiling at Hiccup with very obvious pride. "Now that S-Sidduvb has vanished from the book, there’s no way we ever could. On the other hand, I would advise yeh, Spitelout, not teh go giving out any more D-D-Drago Bludvist's old academy things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Bjartr the Tinkering, fer one, will make sure they are tracked back teh yeh…"

Spitelout stood for a moment, and Hiccup distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his mace and tear the old painting to shreds. Instead, he turned to his house-elf.

"We're going, Dobby!"

He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Hiccup stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him—the perfect revenge.

Valhallarama smirked, once again looking distinctly like Astrid. "Oh, I know that look, lad."

"Sir," he said hurriedly, "Can I give that diary  _ back  _ to Mr Jorgenson, please?"

"Certainly, Hiccup," Alvis said calmly. "But hurry. The feast, remember."

Hiccup nodded, grabbed the diary, and dashed out of the house. He could hear Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if his plan could possibly work, Hiccup took off one of his boots, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the dairy into it. Then he ran down the dark pathway towards the stables.

When he got there he noticed that the stable doors had been blown off their hinges—a leftover from Toothless and Stormfly’s escape, he imagined. Hiccup saw Spitelout and Dobby were about to enter the stables.

"Mr Jorgenson," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for you."

And he forced the smelly sock into Spitelout's hands.

"What the Helheim—?"

Spitelout ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Hiccup.

"You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents’ one of these days, Hiccup Haddock," he said, glaring at him. "They stuck their noses where they didn’t belong, too. And unless my boy can talk some sense into her, your  _ dear  _ Astrid will follow you there."

He turned to enter the stable.

"Come, Dobby. I said, _ come _ !"

But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Hiccup's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it the same way Astrid had looked at Gryffindor's sword.

"Master has given Dobby a sock," the house-elf said in wonderment, " _ Master gave it to Dobby. _ "

"What's that?" Spitelout spat. "What did you say?"

"Got a sock," Dobby said in disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby—Dobby is  _ free _ ." 

Spitelout stood frozen, staring at the house-elf. He then looked at Hiccup, who lifted his left trouser leg to reveal a missing sock. Once he saw this, Spitelout lunged at him, his mace raised in the air.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!"

There was a loud bang, and Spitelout was thrown backwards into the stable. He crashed into a cart full of dragon dung and the dung fell on him. When he managed to dig himself out, his face was livid, and pulled out his dung covered mace, but Dobby raised a long threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing at Spitelout. "You shall not touch Hiccup Haddock. You shall go now."

Spitelout had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his dung-covered cape around him and walked to his purple scaled Monstrous Nightmare. He then flew outside and out of sight.

"Hiccup Haddock freed Dobby!" the house-elf said shrilly, gazing up at Hiccup, the moonlight reflecting on his orb-like eyes. "Hiccup Haddock  _ freed _ Dobby."

"Least I could do, Dobby," Hiccup said, grinning. "Just promise me that you'll never try and save my life again."

The house-elf's ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

"I've just got one question, Dobby," Hiccup said, as Dobby pulled on Hiccup's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with the Dragon Lord, remember? Well—"

"It was a clue, sir," Dobby said, his eyes widening as though this was obvious. "Dobby was giving you a clue. The Dragon Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"

"Right…" Hiccup said slowly. He didn’t get Dobby's logic, but he was too weary to care at this point. "Well, I'd better go. There's a feast in Astrid and I’s honor, and as much as I’d like to sleep for a week, I think I ought to show up. Besides, my best friend Ragnar should be awake by now…"

Dobby threw his arms around Hiccup's middle and hugged him with a squeal.

"Hiccup Haddock is greater than Dobby knew by far!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Hiccup Haddock sir! Please tell Madam Astrid I wish her the best!"

And with a poof of smoke, Dobby disappeared.

Toothless walked out of the stables, stared at the spot where Dobby had disappeared and gave Hiccup a confused look.

_ "…Well that was weird." _

"I know, bud," Hiccup said, shaking his head, "I don't understand him either."

* * *

A few minutes later, Hiccup and Astrid entered the Great Hall. They had been to several Berk feasts, but never one quite like this. Everyone was in their pajamas, and celebrating like a war had just been won.

"This is…weird," Astrid said, watching as Double and Trouble burst into the poem Egill had written on Freya's day, complete with brand new verses and a very entertaining dance. "Really,  _ really _ weird."

_ Good Hiccup fears nothing, so don’t even try. _

_ To go against him’s a quick way to die. _

"Think we ought to get used to this?" Hiccup asked.

Astrid groaned. "Gods, I hope not."

_ This song is for him, and we swear it is true. _

_ Just ask anybody, and they will tell you. _

_ He’s valiant, yet humble, he’s smart and he’s strong. _

_ So lift up your tankard, and come sing along! _

The entirety of the Gryffindor table did as told, as did several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Hiccup could’ve sworn he even saw a Slytherin student nodding her head to the beat.

"Hiccup! Astrid!"

The two turned around to see Ragnar running towards them, grinning like a madman.

"Ragnar!" they exclaimed as one.

Astrid gave Ragnar a hug, but only for about five seconds, and Hiccup shook his hand firmly.

"Nice work solving the mystery," Ragnar said, as the song grew even louder.

"You did all the work," Hiccup reminded him.

"Hiccup, I only gave you a hint on what dragon was down there and how it was moving around," he said, grinning. "You two figured the exact location of the Chamber of Secrets, rescued Egill, and killed the Screaming Death."

Before Hiccup or Astrid could argue, they suddenly found themselves shaking hands with just about everyone, including Hardbottom, who apologized endlessly for suspecting them.

The feast carried on all night long (as did the song, much to Hiccup and Astrid’s dismay), and things got better when Gobber showed up at half past three, cuffing Hiccup and Astrid on the shoulders so hard that they were nearly knocked into their plates of trifle. Heather Valdaha of Ravenclaw came over to sit with them, and she and Ragnar got along so well that within five minutes Hiccup was fairly certain they had forgotten he and Astrid were there.

Thanks to the four hundred points secured by Hiccup and Astrid, Gryffindor had won the House Cup for the second year running. Then Phlegma stood up to tell them all that the exams had been cancelled as an academy treat.

("Oh, no!" Ragnar and Heather said at the exact same time, though the cheering drowned them out rather well)

Next, Alvis announced that "unfortunately", Flashburn, who was now called Flashburn the Fraud, would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news, and Hiccup had to convince Astrid not to jump onto the table and celebrate.

"Shame," Ragnar said, as he helped himself to some pork. "He was starting to grow on me."

* * *

The rest of the summer term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Berk was back to normal, with only a few, small differences—Combat Arts classes were cancelled, and they spent that free time with their dragons, and Spitelout the Stern had been sacked as an academy governor, owing to the discovery of several Dark Magic items that were discovered by Mr Hofferson under his drawing room during a raid. Snotlout was no longer walking around the academy as though he owned the place; on the contrary, he looked resentful and sulky. On the other hand, Egill was perfectly happy again.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Berk Express. Hiccup, Astrid, Ragnar, Double, Trouble and Egill got a compartment to themselves. They made the most of the last few hours, during which they were allowed to do last-minute magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Double and Trouble's Filibuster Fireworks, and practiced a few disarming moves from Astrid. She seemed very happy to inform Hiccup that he was a quick learner after he disarmed Trouble for the tenth time.

They were almost at King's Cross when Hiccup remembered something.

"Hey, Egill—what did you see Askeladden doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"

"Oh, that," Egill said, trying to hold back a laugh. "Well—Askeladden’s got a  _ girlfriend. _ "

Astrid gasped, and Double dropped a stack of books on Trouble's head.

" _ What _ ?" the three siblings said simultaneously.

"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Clearwater Puddleson," Egill said. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her in secret all over the school."

"That explains why he was in the dungeons during Snoggletog," Ragnar muttered.

"Hang on," Hiccup said, looking at Egill curiously, "how do you know about this?"

"Oh…I kind of walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. You should’ve seen how fast they jumped apart. He was so upset when she was—er, you know—attacked," he said. He then looked at his older siblings and added, "You won't tease him about this, will you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Double said, looking as though his birthday had just come early.

"Definitely not," Trouble said, sniggering.

Astrid merely grinned.

The Berk Express slowed and finally came to a stop.

Hiccup pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Astrid and Ragnar.

"This is called a telephone number," he informed a confused Astrid, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two and handing it to them. "I told your Dad how to use a telephone last summer; he'll know. Call me at the Dalvors, Okay? I don’t think I can stand another two months with only Balder to talk to…"

"Don't worry, I will," Astrid assured him. "But just so you know, I won't be planning any more rescue plans for you. My mum’s threatened to skin me alive if I do anything like that ever again. Promise me you won't do something that'll get you in danger?"

"That's the problem, Astrid," Hiccup said. "Danger has a knack for finding me."

"Speaking of your Aunt and Uncle," Ragnar said as they got off the train and joined the crowd heading towards the enchanted barrier, "what do you think their reaction will be when they find out what you did this year?"

"Oh, I think they'll be furious about it. I mean, all those times I could've died, and I didn't manage it?"

And together, the three friends walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world.

* * *

******Highlight of chapter (replacing favorite line, because I haven't been using just one line):**

**" _Good Hiccup fears nothing, so don’t even try._**

**_To go against him’s a quick way to die._ **

**_This song is for him, and we swear it is true._ **

**_Just ask anybody, and they will tell you._ **

**_He’s valiant, yet humble, he’s smart and he’s strong._ **

**_So lift up your tankard, and come sing along!_ "**

**(Yes, I'm biased because I wrote it. No, I don't care)**

**And thus ends Book Two: The Chamber of Secrets. Before we get ** **to the shout-outs, I'd like to take this opportunity to say a special thanks to my editor, my best friend who I roped into helping me with this. Her enthusiasm and friendship has pulled me through some stressful times, and it always will.**

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**Coming July 31st...Book Three: The Prisoners on Azkaban-**

_**"He's at Berk...He's at Berk..."** _

_**Hiccup Haddock is in danger. Alvin the Treacherous, a man so evil they say he killed his own daughter, has escaped from the dreaded Viking prison of Azkaban. Hiccup's triumph over the Dragon Lord ruined Alvin's life, and now they say he is out for revenge.** _

_**That isn't the only bad thing, though. The guards of Azkaban have come to Berk, and their mere presence can drain anyone of their happiness. A dragon in Gobber's care may get executed by the Dragon Ministry. And Hiccup dreams of a girl, a girl he has never met, and yet is achingly familiar.** _

_**One thing is certain—there's far more to this than meets the eye. There may still be a traitor...question is, who?** _


End file.
